The Mysterious Patient
by jane1229
Summary: My version of Zander's backstory, which then spreads out to include other characters. Continued in Girl Racer.
1. Chapter 1

Quinn had thought she knew what true love was three times before. First, when she was 15, she had fallen in love with Scott Jankowski, another sophomore at Mercy High School, the Catholic High School in her hometown of Port Charles. It seemed they were destined to be together forever. Her parents had met when they were both juniors at the same high school. So it was perfectly logical.

The teachers at Mercy High School loved to assign volunteer work as a way to get the students involved in the community. Sometimes it would come from the civics teacher, sometimes it had come from the religion teacher, or at other times, it came from whatever teacher was running the boosters club or the cheerleading squad (to which Quinn had belonged).

So an experience volunteering at Mercy hospital as a candy striper had inspired her with her goal in life, to become a nurse.

"You are smart, and you could get into medical school," her godfather, Joe Quinn, started saying things like this from around the time her ambition first got around in her family. "You'll be taking orders from doctors and you'll realize you could be doing that."

"I've seen them, and they don't take care of patients," she always argued. "They hardly spend any time with them."

"Teenagers always want to 'help people'" when they grow up," her father had smiled as he explained to Joe Quinn.

"What's wrong with that?" his daughter asked him.

"Nothing at all," her mother chimed in. Kathleen was a grade school teacher at Port Charles Middle School.

Scott thought it was a great idea. He intended to be a cop. They were both accepted at Port Charles University, which was pretty much to be expected of any literate high school graduate from the area. Both applied to other colleges, since parents who have saved up anything for college for their offspring have an ambition to see them go to an institution other than that "glorified high school."

So when Quinn got accepted at Notre Dame, which surprised her, she knew she had to go, or she would never hear the end of it from her grandparents, her uncles and aunts, and her numerous cousins.

Scott went to Cornell after all, since he had been accepted there. But this kind of separation is nothing when it comes to true love. Her grandfathers were both factory workers, and so were proud of Dan and Kathleen for graduating from the glorified high school and becoming white collar, middle class citizens. But naturally the next generation must make a step up. Scott's family was more or less the same.

They assured each other they would write and that they would see each other on every possible weekend. Indeed, Scott came to Notre Dame on Homecoming Weekend, and Quinn went to Ithaca one weekend in October. He met her new friends, and she met his new friends, and everything seemed fine. They saw each other on Fall Break and on Christmas Break and on two other weekends at home.

Then in the Spring semester, Quinn started to feel differently about her friend Sean Monroe, who she'd always talked to and told about how she missed Scott. He'd always told her about his girlfriend, Lynn. Quinn felt like she knew Lynn and even met her on a couple of Lynn's weekend visits. Sean had met Scott, and Sean liked Scott a whole lot.

Sean had gone home to Kentucky every possible weekend to see Lynn, but in the Spring semester, he didn't seem to go. Quinn had too much studying to do, or something else to do, and never did make it home as many times as she had intended. At first, she figured that a person is always tempted by someone else - she'd heard stories about even married women who fantasized about someone else. But true love, well, that means you don't really want to be with this other man. It's just a part of life that maturity helps you deal with. Indeed, one of her uncle's wives had even gotten involved with another man. But in the end it all smoothed out.

But Quinn and Scott weren't even married, and Scott must have gotten really busy too, because she didn't hear from him as much.

By the end of her freshman year, Quinn was convinced that when you are in high school, you are, these days at least, just too young to get the concept of true love. She and Sean were sure they were in love. In college, you are away from your family and you really grow up. So you have a much better idea of what true love is.

Sean was a junior, and he was so much more mature than Scott. He knew exactly what he wanted to do. Scott had wanted to be a cop, but now he was trying for a degree in business administration. Sean was going to go to law school.

So when Quinn was a junior herself, and then a senior, she spent a lot of weekends at the University of Kentucky Law School. She spent others with Sean and his family in Kentucky. She really liked his parents, and she loved Kentucky, and she thought she would really love to live there. She got along well with his sister. She and Sean ran into Lynn at church once, and Lynn and her new husband were positively civil.

Sean liked Port Charles, when he went there with Quinn to meet her family. He liked them all. Her parents were impressed with him, if a little shy at first. Everybody liked Sean's southern drawl, and Joe Quinn even imitated it for Quinn once on the phone. He called her at least once a month. Once, at the Port Charles Grill, during a visit during a summer break from Sean's clerking job in Louisville and Quinn's break from a stint volunteering at Louisville General Hospital, Quinn and Sean ran into Scott and a girl named Cheryl Shue. Cheryl was a model for a local agency, and apparently Scott was dating her. She stood up and shook hands with Quinn.

When they got back to the house, Sean told Joe all about how Cheryl had towered over Quinn. This was ever so slightly annoying. She had to hear again her aunts' opinion about how she could have been a model but for her height. "She is so beautiful, but so short," they'd say.

This time, Sean proved to be her hero. "I love them petite," he said. He was six feet and three inches tall, and the tall girlfriends she had at Notre Dame and at the University of Kentucky loved to tease her that she was wasting one of the few tall guys. "Any guy is taller than you, so why do you take a tall one and leave me the ones that I can look down at the top of his head standing next to?" teased one, or "you'll never know what that feels like, unless you date a midget" kidded another, or "girls like you make it impossible for me to wear high heels," would be another one of the jokes Quinn had laughed at many a time.

One summer she had even worked at Port Charles General Hospital. She flew to Kentucky a few times that summer, and Sean flew to Port Charles a couple of times. Sean was at her graduation. By that time, she had an offer to work at PCGH, and was really excited. Sean didn't want her to take it. It was easy for an R.N. to get a job anywhere, and he was sure his "little nurse" could land one at Louisville General.

But the temptation proved to be too much for Quinn. Having a job in her hometown and being near her family sounded wonderful. Somehow it would all work out. Sean could easily take the New York bar exam as well as the Kentucky bar exam.

Then one romantic evening before she started her job, at the horse races in Kentucky, Sean proposed. And it suddenly occurred to Quinn she had just been drifting along, and that true love couldn't possibly exist after all when you were just in college. She and Sean had a lot of fun in their time, but then, she was too happy about being a nurse in Port Charles. How could she not want to go and work in Louisville? True love would have meant that would have been what she would have preferred. She hedged, and said that maybe they should see what happened if they were separated. She remembered Scott, and reminded him of Lynn, and thought they must need a test of separation to see if they still wanted to stay together.

Her parents were amazingly supportive of this attitude. She didn't know whether they weren't so crazy about Sean, or just wanted her living in Port Charles. Joe Quinn, as usual, did not mince words and said he was glad for both reasons. Everybody else just said, "follow your heart."

Sean was rather angry, and wouldn't speak to her, so rather than see if they would last through a mere geographical separation, they broke up completely. Quinn was a little angry too, about Sean's either/or ultimatum about the whole thing.

In her first year she worked in maternity and then in intensive care. She started dating for what felt like the first time in her life. She went out once with a guy named Jasper Jax, who was a really high roller a lot older than she, and this one evening opened up her eyes to how much there was in the world that she didn't know about. He had his own jet, and he flew her to the Poconos to see the stock car races, and they had a really fancy dinner there and flew back, all in one evening. Quinn and her friends discussed this date for about two weeks. They were all wild about his accent, how good looking he was, and how rich he was. But as to who he was himself they never wondered.

Most of the doctors flirted with her. The son of the chief of staff wasn't a doctor, but he flirted with her whenever he came in. "You should marry him," said Joanna Shields, another one of the nurses. "You could be Quinn Quartermaine." 

"That's a great foundation for a marriage," commented Dr. Jones, who was looking at a chart nearby.

"It might be as good as any other that seems to be," Quinn said, with a little irony.

Quinn went out with Dr. Paul Whitman spontaneously after they got into a conversation at the nurse's station. They went to Kelly's and had a cup of coffee, and then went to Jake's and played pool, and had a few drinks, and talked long into the night. He was fascinated with the races, which Quinn knew all about, since her father and her godfather had a major hobby in them. They even had cars at the race track and drove themselves, but they never won anything. It was mostly for fun.

That year, Dan and Joe got Quinn to drive Joe's car - he said he was getting too old, and that there weren't enough women driving. She loved the feeling of speed and power, and once made it through a time trial and raced the Port Charles 100, and came in 59th.

Paul was really impressed. He bought himself a car, and Dan and Joe got really into helping him.

Paul was only about 5'8" tall, and therefore a natural. Between the hospital and the race track and about six more evenings out on the town, Quinn was sure she had found the real true love that you find in the real world when you are grown up and out of school.


	2. Chapter 2

Quinn had her own place now, a one bedroom apartment in the good part of town, six minutes away from the hospital. Paul lived in a house he had bought a couple of years before, and liked to fix up. He was 30 years old last year, and thought it was the responsible thing to do to buy a house.

He asked her what she thought of it whenever he was going to do something; so far she had watched the progress of : the deck, the change of plumbing in the kitchen, and the construction of a powder room in the basement.

They cuddled on the couch and watched real life detective shows. Quinn liked these shows about how the cops used forensic evidence to solve cases. 

They went to the track as many evenings as they could when the weather got better. Quinn's younger brothers, Tim and Brad, really liked Paul. Tim was a junior at Mercy High School, and Brad was in the 8th grade at St. Michael's. They had been raised on the racetrack too, and were actually able to teach Paul some things. Paul was friendly with them and kidded them.

They had all gone out to dinner one evening. "Your family is nuts," he said. "I mean I like them. They're nuts in a likable way. Here they sit at dinner and argue about the Kennedy assassination. How did they get onto that?"

"I don't know," Quinn laughed. " I like stuff like that. It must have been when I brought up that show on Forensic Detectives where the doctors were arguing whether the patient had been shot in the back or in the front."

"Give you a mystery, and you love to try to solve it. You might have been a detective if you had wanted."

"No, I want to be a nurse."

"I know, but there are forensic doctors, maybe they need nurses, too, you know?"

"I guess, but it is more of a hobby. I mean, you wouldn't be taking care of the patients, you'd be studying files. I'm done with studying."

Kathleen was the only one in the family who appeared to be at all doubtful about Paul. She seemed to believe Paul didn't listen to Quinn much, but Quinn hadn't noticed that herself. Kathleen was mostly positive, though, and invited Paul over for dinner or whenever there was a birthday party or anniversary party for someone.

She saw him here and there at work. He was a psychiatrist, but on occasion he had reason to come into intensive care. They could have lunch together in the cafeteria every once in awhile. But being a nurse in her first year, Quinn spent two-thirds of the time on odd shifts.

The intensive care unit has the advantage that the monitoring equipment transmits data on each patient's condition directly to the nurses' station. But it could be stressful, because the patients there by definition had life threatening illnesses or injuries. There was a special one for pediatrics, so they were all adults in this unit. Heart attacks, pneumonia, poisoning, complex surgeries, prolonged surgeries, surgical complications, strokes, and serious accident injuries.

She sat down at the station one day and looked at her newest cases. One was a gunshot wound. "Hmmm, interesting. Never had a gunshot wound before," she said to Joanna, who was standing behind her.

"You get those every once in awhile," Joanna was peering onto the screen Quinn was reading. "I had one last year and there were security guards posted, and sometimes even the cops, because the patient has been arrested."

"Well, are there any cops around here now?"

"None that I see yet."

"What do you need the cops for?" Paul's voice came from up at the other side of the station desk.

Joanna and Quinn looked up at him. He smiled. "Looking for someone?"

"Paul! Hi! What are you doing here?" Quinn greeted him.

"Looking for you, babe. Hi, Joanna." He turned back to Quinn. "How about a drive this evening? If the cops are after you, I'll make sure you stay ahead of them."

It was a beautiful spring night, and Paul drove Quinn up to the cliff overlooking the lake, and they had just been talking of this and that, and suddenly, he asked her to marry him.

She froze. He was standing next to her, leaning on a stone wall like she was.

"You look startled," he said. "You aren't surprised, are you?"

She felt like somebody had just poured a bucket of hot water over her.

"Yes," was all she could say.

He put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her a little bit.

"You don't have to answer now, then. Take as long as you need."

The rest of the evening he was kind and considerate, and she felt terrible that he was so sweet. Several times she thought how handsome he was; he had thick, shiny brown hair and big blue eyes and a strong chin and he was built in the most perfect possible way. And he liked her brothers, and he liked her Dad, and he liked her godfather, and he got along with almost anyone. She had a million things in common with him. It would work out perfectly. As well as it would have with Sean Monroe, in fact. No better; Paul and his family lived in Port Charles, too.

"What is wrong with me?" she asked Joanna Shields as they prepared to go round to the patients the next day.

"He's just not the one."

"I really love him."

"You love him. You just don't love him."

They both thought about that for a moment. Then they both burst into laughter.

"How did you know, Joanna? I mean, when you married Charlie."

"Since we just got divorced, . . ."

"I know, but still, you decided to marry him at one point."

"O.K. This can be a lesson in what to avoid. The reason I knew he was the one was that he was the one who asked. And a girl doesn't get a dozen proposals. I know, that sounds old fashioned. A girl does not get or make and have accepted a dozen proposals. Now I know that sounds unromantic, but then again, it was romantic. Him asking me up at the top of the ski lift, which was where we met. Not that ski lift, but another one. It had to be, because nobody else had ever even come close to doing that. I had never dated anybody that long, not even close. I know that isn't much help."

"Yes it is."

"You've got a different history. It sounds to me like this, Quinn. Some guy falls for you, and you get into this relationship and it's nice, and o.k., and you think that is what they call being in love. I think you drift into these things, taking one day at a time, until then one day he decides it is time to commit, then you realize you were just passing time. Do you think that could be?"

"I don't know. I really thought Scott was going to be with me forever. So when I realized it wasn't so, I thought Sean would be with me forever, and the reason I had mistaken it before was that I was just in high school, and with Sean I was away from home and knew more what I was doing. Then when I realized college is just school, and now I was out in the world with a job like I'm a real adult, and I went out with this guy and that guy and then Paul and I'd really rather be with him than anyone else I know. Oh no, do you think I'm just immature? This is it. I'm grown up. I have a job."

"And it is time to get married!" Joanna laughed. "Right on schedule! Well, I say, no way. It would be immature to get married. You've got to want to. You've got to be sure of it."

"I wanted Sean to give it more time. And he wouldn't. But Paul, I think he will. He doesn't sound like he's going to just break it off. Not either and or as the only options."

"What if he did?"

"I don't know."

"Of course you know. You're not going to marry him because he said either marry me or get lost. You'll be on your way! You and your problems! Wouldn't we all like to have them! Guys wanting to marry you while you are the queen of non-commitment! Let's go to Jake's. It's about time you beat a couple of guys at pool."

They played pool for awhile with two older-looking guys who were friendly and didn't make any moves on either of them, which, for the mood Quinn was in, was a relief. Then they had a couple of glasses of wine. They discussed Charlie's attempts to get out of paying child support. They giggled about how cute Charlie's lawyer was, and lamented that Joanna's was a woman.


	3. Chapter 3

Quinn was looking at the monitors at the nurses' station. A man came up and took out a badge. "I'm Detective Taggart, Port Charles P.D. I need to talk to one of your patients."

"Which?"

"Zander Smith."

The gunshot wound. The police are here, she thought, suppressing a smile.

"You can talk to him," she said, "but he won't talk back. His current condition won't support it."

"Okay," the Detective said slowly, "can I leave you my card and have you call me when Mr. Smith wakes up?"

"Of course," she said, noticing that the detective said the word "Smith" in the most sarcastic possible way, as though he thought that it were not a real name. She said as much.

"I don't believe it for a minute. It's an obvious alias. Think about it, Miss, Miss," he looked at her name tag. "Miss Connor. And I know Zander Smith. If Zander wanted an alias, that's the one he'd think of immediately, and so the one he'd go with."

"It doesn't make any difference from the medical care end," she answered.

"Oh, true. Make sure you take good care of Zander Smith. Can't have anything bad happen to Zander Smith."

"You say that as if you were saying 'Ted Bundy'" Quinn could not suppress a giggle. "I've seen the patient, he looks about 16, what has he done? On second thought, don't tell me. I don't want to have even a subconscious prejudice against a patient. I have to do the best I can for him."

"You do that, Nurse Connor, but just make sure you watch out. Don't take things for granted when you are in a room with Zander Smith."

That evening, watching cars at the track, Quinn told Paul about this interesting exchange.

"Don't you read the newspapers?" Paul said. "That is exactly the name of the kid who was dealing drugs at PC High and pretending to be a student there, he is more than 16, you're just seeing him asleep and he looks younger than he is. And Dr. Quartermaine's daughter was a student there at the head of the class, and she fell for him while she was working after school for his lawyer, she wants to be a lawyer or some such thing, and she kept visiting him in jail. Anyway, naturally her family had a fit about it and tried to get a restraining order, but she made it impossible. Somehow. Either she came of age or disobeyed them or both."

"Fascinating. How long ago was this? Where is the daughter now? I didn't even know they had one."

"I don't know, not around, it seems. Maybe they shipped her off to the convent."

"Where are his parents?"

"I don't know. They never got mentioned in the papers. Though I could see them not wanting to draw too much attention to the job they did raising their progeny."

"This can't have been long ago."

"Not too long ago. I think she just graduated from PC High."

"Odd. A family with so much money, yet they didn't send their daughter to a private school."

"They are the most disorganized people on Earth. I think he's only head of the hospital because of who he knows. She may be a good doctor for all I know, but her personal life has got to be a mess. There has always been so much gossip. Their kids all always out of control one way or another."

"Their sons are alright to talk to. A.J. is friendly. The one that's a doctor is ok, if quiet."

"To talk to. But keep it at that. A.J. has problems with alcohol going way back. He even was driving and got in an accident where Jason was injured really badly, and got two years behind in medical school trying to recover. And they have a lot of antipathy between the two of them."

"I only have to deal with her. As a cardiologist, she has patients in intensive care almost always. I don't have to deal with the head of staff any more than anybody else. Dr. Jason, I think is a pediatrician, right? Even if he has patients in intensive care, they're in the pediatric ICU."

"Well aren't you set up to stay away from the baddies, my little nurse! But you'll see them now for sure."

"Why?" Quinn tried not to think of Sean. Paul had never used the "little nurse" nickname before. And she had always hated it.

"Besides Jason, not a one ever keeps their personal life out of the office. They'll be in there, alright, telling you what to do with Zander Smith. Even the old grandfather will come in there and tell you what to do. Mark my words."

Quinn shrugged. "He's Dr. Jones' patient, I'm just going to go with what Dr. Jones says."

"That assumes they respect the rules of ethics. They could easily try to get to you to go around Dr. Jones. You're in exactly the position they will see as vulnerable."

A car whizzed by.

"Thanks for the warnings," she said. "I think I'll run one of the cars. A drive at 100 m.p.h. is starting to sound like a cake walk compared to work."


	4. Chapter 4

Quinn went into Zander Smith's room and picked up the chart. Two gunshot wounds to the abdomen, major surgery, stable, but critical. She noticed his eyes opening; they focused on the ceiling for a moment, then went around the room. She walked over to the side of the bed and adjusted the IV, saying, "you're okay," an automatic and professional response to her. His eyes turned and focused on her. This lasted a few seconds, then they closed again. Still, she made a note on the chart of it.

While she wrote, someone came into the room. This was a professional looking, auburn haired woman, who looked around the room as if taking it all in, and immediately said, "how is he?"

"You're his mother?" Quinn asked.

"Oh, no. No. I'm his lawyer. Alexis Davis."

"He's as well as can be expected," Quinn said. "No visitors other than you and a police detective. Where're his parents? Is he over 18? No birth date on this chart, and that's usually the first thing they get."

"Can I sit with him?" Ms. Davis asked, irrelevantly.

"Of course," Quinn said, just glad there was somebody who apparently cared. Every single other patient in her care had family members, friends, visitors of every kind. There was even a pamphlet and a program for people with a family member in the ICU.

Ms. Davis pulled up a chair and sat down by his side, looking at him. Maybe she was more of a friend than just a lawyer. People's lawyers didn't usually visit, either. Lawyers just weren't the part of an ICU patient's life that came up. There was an occasional issue with a "do not resuscitate" and the "Advanced Care Directive," but visiting lawyers Quinn, at least, had never seen before.

Quinn looked at the chart again. Unusual, in that it had so many blanks. No birthday, no birthplace, no religion, and she already knew the name wasn't necessarily true.

"Do you know what religion he is?" she finally asked Ms. Davis. "The hospital has a list of priests and ministers they can call in."

"No idea," Ms. Davis said, looking up at Quinn.

"Friends, family, anybody at all? Where's Miss Quartermaine? My boyfriend told me she's his girlfriend."

"Packed off to her freshman year in college last week, just before this happened. So as to timing, when it comes to friends who are in town, I think you're looking at her."

"Okay," Quinn said, deciding to accept her as the one you talk to about the patient. "I'm here for you if you've got questions or want to tell us anything. Quinn Connor, that is my name on the card on the side table. And Dr. Jones is available sometimes, too."

"Thank you," Ms. Davis answered. Quinn looked back as she left the room, and was a little relieved seeing Ms. Davis put her hand down on the patient's arm. She must not be related to him, Quinn thought, or she'd have said so, but she must be something more than just a lawyer.


	5. Chapter 5

"How do you feel?"

"Awful."

"What hurts?"

"My stomach. It is one big pain all across."

"Try to take a deep breath."

"That hurts too."

"Worse?"

"No, sort of equal." He tried a grin. He gritted his teeth.

Quinn wrote this down. She adjusted the IV. He was staring at the ceiling again. This was an indication of stress and pain. Every individual patient had their indications. This one stared at the ceiling with such intensity you would have thought it contained the answer to the riddles of life.

"What's up there? The cure for cancer?"

He turned his head and tried to smile. 

"Nothing? I was hoping someone had left a note up there with incontrovertible proof that Oswald killed Kennedy on his own."

"Who?"

"Never mind. Too much for you right now. Here is the remote. Put the TV on and see if there is some mindless entertainment on there to take you mind off of it."

Quinn had photos on the back of her bulletin board, behind her monitor, like the other nurses. The others who took her place on other shifts had theirs. Someone had been there. A photo of Quinn and Paul, leaning against Quinn's car, was there, and had not been there before. It was a good photo. Her long hair was flying in the wind. (At work, it was always demurely up and earned her a few comments on being a schoolmarm or a nickname like Miss Prim.).

She put it back, next to her photo with her parents and herself at her graduation in a nurse's cap, the one of herself and Scott when she was elected Prom Queen, and the one of Dan and Kathleen with their three children, an older photo of a younger Dan and Kathleen, and the photo of a young Joe Quinn that she had copies of and had one of everywhere.

She looked up from consulting the monitors to see Dr. Monica Quartermaine wanting to talk to her. The doctor had three cases that were Quinn's, two cardiac patients and Zander Smith.

"I know it's strange, but I did the surgery on him," Dr. Quartermaine explained.

"Oh, yes, ok, for your daughter. That's so nice."

"Er, well, sort of," Dr. Quartermaine went on. "The thing is - during the surgery he was throwing PVCs, and it calmed down, then started up again, then calmed down again. It may be nothing but the stress from the surgery, but it was enough for me to believe I need two things: an EKG when he is able, and a family history for heart problems, especially arrythmias and especially Long Q-T Syndrome. And the whole personal history, with the doctor's names so we can get the records."

"Ok, I'll get that."

"Thanks. I'll write it in the chart to let Dr. Jones know."

Zander Smith was watching the races on TV.

"Oh cool. How's my man doing? I mean Jeff Gordon," Quinn said, looking at the screen.

"Just taken over fourth. There is a restart."

"Good going!" She started checking on him; blood pressure was ok, temperature too. She checked and re-adjusted the IV. "I have to ask you something."

He turned off the TV and looked at her.

"Dr. Quartermaine wants your history. Have you ever been hospitalized before?"

"Here."

"OK. Anywhere else?"

"No."

"Have you had any heart problems in your life?"

"No."

"Nothing at all."

"No."

"Any other major illnesses?"

"No."

"Really healthy."

"Yes."

"How is your mother's health?"

He looked away. "Fine," he said, after a moment.

"No heart problems? Your mother, I mean."

"Nothing. Not that I know of."

"Father?"

"Very healthy."

"Brothers and sisters?"

"Very healthy."

"How many?"

"One."

"No heart problems?"

"No. Maybe. I don't know, really."

"Well, nothing big. Obviously, never in the hospital for it."

"No, never."

"Anyone else related to you who ever had a heart problem?"

"Not that I know of."

"Ok, I only need one more thing. Who is your family doctor?"

"My what?"

"Family doctor. You know. Pediatrician. The one you went to when you got sick as a kid, and stuff. Minor stuff."

"None."

"Your parents must have taken you to the doctor."

"No."

"Didn't you ever get sick, not even the measles?"

"No." He smiled. "A model for perfect health."

"Where did they take you for a check up for school?"

"I wasn't sick."

"A check-up. Routine examination. Like the public schools require."

"I never went to a public school."

"Private schools require them too. I always had to get one, for private school."

"Rich family, huh?"

"No. Catholic School. Ok, then, where did you go to school?"

"Not around here."

"Where, then?"

"Florida."

Quinn was starting to lose patience. Keep your temper, she told herself. She thought of what she had trained herself to think of in these situations. It was Joe Quinn telling her, "temper has brought the Irish low many a time."

She breathed and asked, slowly, "What city in Florida?"

"It doesn't matter does it? They just say I'm fine."

"Doctors like to see that for themselves. In the notes from other doctors."

"I was here before and they didn't ask that."

"Before you didn't have such a serious injury, no doubt."

"No. But what do they need to know?"

"In surgery, something went on with your heart," she said, "that bothered Dr. Quartermaine. She just wants your records to check it out. Nothing to worry about. But you know doctors. They like to make sure."

"Impossible. Nothing has ever been wrong with me."

"This is a doctor that said this," Quinn said, gritting her teeth and bringing Joe Quinn's saying to mind again. So far, she had been great at patient relations.

"They're not perfect."

"I've never hit an injured patient before, so I'm leaving for now. But I'll come back later and you can tell me. Never has a single patient in my whole career ever made any difficulty about giving this information. Never."

"Your whole career? You're not old enough to stake stuff on it. How long is it?"

"One year, I'll have you know, but that's not the subject. I could find nurses who have been here 50 years who never had such trouble getting the answer to a simple question. And that question is, who is your family doctor? If you can't recall a name, we can help you if you tell us where you went to school. Goodbye. I'll be back."


	6. Chapter 6

"It is some crime that deviant committed," Edward Quartermaine was saying, as Alan entered the living room. "If you can't find out his name, then you can't tell the authorities you've found him."

"Oh Edward, put a sock in it," his daughter-in-law answered. "I don't want to have to call Emily over this. But there may be no other way. I have my professional duty. Oh, hello dear," she said, seeing her husband come into the room. She went over to kiss him hello.

Edward started grumbling, walked off to the window to look out and listen.

"What's up?" Alan asked.

Monica explained.

"Here's an idea," Alan said. "Let's try Alexis first. She can even talk to Zander."

"You know, you are brilliant," she said, giving him a hug.

Monica called Alexis, who agreed to stop by Monica's office at the hospital that evening. She said she was coming in to see Zander anyway.

"When he was arrested, they ran his fingerprints of course, and he had no prior record," Alexis said, as Monica led her to a chair opposite her desk. "So there was no way to match him to any other name than what he gives."

"Who is to say it's not his real name? People have it. It's common."

"Which is what makes it a needle in a haystack too. I've never had the time to go and investigate him behind his back. I wanted him to work in my office; just running errands and things like that. I thought he could take over the job Emily used to have; I could teach him to do it. But I can't have him work illegally, and he either has no social security number or won't give it to me, and of course, he wouldn't go and get one."

"So that's why he works for the local mob. Emily really disapproves of that. If she were still here, she might be able to get something out of him. I just can't bring myself to bring about any contact, though. If she called him on her own, that would be something I couldn't prevent, but she hasn't, from what I can tell. The times I talked to her she was excited about classes, her new roommate, all the college stuff and I hate to drag that stuff down with Zander and his problems."

"I can understand that," Alexis answered. "Adjusting to college, and it sounds like she's doing well with it, is more important in the long run. He's an adult, or so he says, and really it's his responsibility to tell you what his medical history is. For Emily it just is not a good time to bring up something that might well inspire her to come running back here. Even if it's just temporary, it would still upset things. It's not good to miss even one class at the very beginning of your freshman year. Let me try. I've got some sort of relationship going with him. It might even be better. His pride isn't as involved. And I have the lawyer-client confidentiality, and can explain the doctor-patient confidentiality."

"I appreciate this, Alexis. Really you don't know how much. I'm just relieved he doesn't contact her either. I'm sure she doesn't know he's been shot. I guess he wouldn't tell her. I give him credit for it. It wouldn't do her a bit of good to know."

"Obviously he has run away from home," Alexis said, almost to herself. "How did it take me this long to realize it? And then there is the question of who shot him just now; that's been on my mind. There's always something! You never get enough quiet when it comes to Zander, to think about anything other than the now. There's always something in the immediate moment taking up your attention! How did he become a drug dealer? Why did he run away from home? Was he underage when he did? I wonder - if I looked in the missing children's reports or - maybe someone reported him missing. Even if he was over 18 when he left home, someone could have reported him missing. It really is amazing! I've know him a year now; it must be almost that. And it has never occurred to me to think of these simple questions before or to wonder why he never just told me!"

Monica's relief was great. It looked like there were plenty of other ways to find out about Zander without disturbing Emily. The longer she went without contacting him or asking about him, the better.


	7. Chapter 7

**Part 7**

"He still won't take the pain medication," the licensed practical nurse was saying.

"I have 30 patients on this hall," Quinn was fuming. "Twenty-nine of them give me ten percent of my work! What now? Let him be in pain. Nobody does a thing like that!"

"Let me try," Joanna said helpfully.

But Joanna, good natured as she was, came back to the station looking ticked off. "You ought to have your case load reduced," Joanna said, plopping the tray down on the counter. "All patients are never equal and there's not much you can do about it when you draw a high maintenance one. Other days you'll draw the easy ones. But you have a real case for a reduction, here."

"See, and you didn't believe me, did you?"

Joanna recovered soon though, and went with Quinn to the head nurse's office.

Nurse Spencer was always a help. Her long experience with both nursing and just life in general made her an ideal supervisor. She more than made up for the sometimes negative job conditions that the hospital administration brought about.

"Sometimes, when you have gunshot wounds, and where the origin is unknown - you don't have a clear domestic dispute here - the patient will, subconsciously, fear the idea of being out of it and try to avoid it as much as possible - the shooter could still come after him, and he's really vulnerable now. One easy thing to do is to reassure him that we won't allow any visitor that we haven't seen before and haven't cleared with him, and explain that if he is out of consciousness for any reason, we don't allow anyone in, and that we're checking on him constantly."

"Get him to realize he's perfectly safe," Quinn said.

"That's right. Talk to patients, just about yourself a little, even. They get that they aren't ever going to fall under the radar when there is a real person they can picture rather than just an intellectual description. For example, with any gunshot wound, rather than just remind them that there is a midnight shift, you can complain about having to be on it! Really, that's a good thing. Gets it much clearer to them that you or somebody is always around."

"Did you ever feel irregular heartbeats?" Monica asked Zander, who was sitting up now, and looked otherwise his usual smart-aleck self, she thought. The picture of health unless injured. He got injured a lot. She couldn't picture him as sick. Still, that was nothing to go on.

"No."

"Ever fainted?"

"Once or twice. But I was a little kid."

"That's an odd thing to happen to a little kid. I need the details."

"But if I weren't shot, I wouldn't have been here, and you would never have noticed this. So how can it be bad?"

"Look, sometimes good comes out of bad; we discover something in time that we wouldn't have otherwise. I'm sure you feel healthy. But some things sneak up on people. You could, and I'm only saying could, have something called Long Q-T syndrome. If you do we need to know. You might need another surgery from this very gunshot wound. We have to know as much as we can; if we do, we can adjust the anesthesia to make it right for your condition. There is medication we can prescribe. But not something that would be a good idea for you to take if you don't have this condition. It can also show up now when it didn't before, and is thought to be genetic, enough so that the precise family history is absolutely necessary. Records and all - that is standard protocol."

"Does anybody get hurt besides me?"

"No."

"Then, what of it? Don't tell me it matters to you if I die."

"I'm a doctor. I'm a professional. Don't be ridiculous, Zander. I don't want you to die. I know Emily doesn't want you to die. Then why would I? So I have to talk to your parents directly. They may not have told you everything. How do you know their entire medical history, and that of their parents, and their siblings? And your siblings? And you, for that matter?"

"It's genetic?"

"Yes. And it can occur in otherwise healthy people. It is suspected in cases like that basketball player, I can't remember his name, but it was in the news, remember that? One day he just died. Just like that. Athletes, perfectly healthy, or so they seem, but the stress they put on their heart one day kills them. There was figure skater, too, a few years back, a Russian. Dropped his wife, his partner, right onto the ice and died. It shows up in children and young adults that way sometimes. You're not an athlete, I know. But you can't say your life is without stress."

"So if I get killed this way, would it be any worse?"

"No! I mean yes! I mean, what do you mean? This is a way that can be avoided! Honestly Zander!"

She paced around the room. He just stared at her. "It may not kill you," she said, regaining her composure, "but could cause you to faint say, within seconds, due to lack of oxygen to the brain. Even just an intense emotion or a startling noise can do it - just because it hasn't happened before doesn't mean it can't now."

"Can't you tell from your tests and all that stuff? Examine me. I'm all yours."

"Yes, but people don't have the irregular heartbeat all the time when they have this. You can have normal tests. I'll do all those, and examine you, and there are other things I can look for, but this one's the most serious, which, as a doctor, I want to eliminate, even if there's not much chance you actually have it. At least tell me this. Any sudden deaths of anybody; siblings, parents, aunts and uncles, grandparents, or first cousins?"

"Of the ones I know of, and know, none. None that I know."

"So you see why I need to talk to them. What about fainting?"

"Women. They had other reasons to faint, though."

Yeah, your mother would have a lot of reasons to faint, she thought to herself.

"Just give the nurse on duty the names and as much information for contacting them as you can," she said, as she marched out of the room.


	8. Chapter 8

**Part 8**

The patient was watching the races again. Quinn smiled. As she put the blood pressure cuff on, she said: "What is that?"

"The time trials for the Michigan 400."

"You like the races? Have you ever driven?"

"On a real track? No."

"I have. My dad, and my god-dad, that's their hobby. They've never won any big thing, but they've always done it. My godfather was in a real pit crew once. He was even at Indianapolis. Since I was little I've been around the track. I've been driving my godfather's care since he retired. That's how he describes it - not that he had something to retire from. I still let him drive sometimes, though."

"It's hard to picture you driving a race car."

"You can check it out sometime. When you're better, I'll take you down to the track."

"Oh, I think my girlfriend wouldn't like that."

"Why not? She can come too."

"She's away at college."

"Surely she doesn't object to you having a little fun. I won't even come near you," she said, trying not to laugh, "just leave you with my dad and my brothers. And my boyfriend, he races now. I promise - no attempts to steal you from your girlfriend."

She smiled to herself, pumping the air into the blood pressure gauge. She let it down, and read it; slightly high. She sat down to write it down on the chart, concentrating as hard as she could; the harder she tried not to smile, the harder it got.

She pursed her lips as hard as she could, and turned from the chart. He was looking at her intently. "Sorry," he said. "Stupid of me."

"It's ok," she said, laughing, glad she was free to. "Tell me who wins," she added, going out.

Joanna and Quinn were in the cafeteria with Paul.

"He thought you were coming on to him?" Joanna asked, "Isn't that cute?"

"No," said Paul, "it's subconsciously what he wants that is operating here. But what can I do, I am always doomed to have competitors."

"Thank you," Quinn said with pretended sarcasm, rolling her eyes.

"Now this one I have no fear of," he continued. "At least, not in that way. But I do in another way."

"Why?" Joanna asked.

"Well, what's going to grab her attention like a mystery guy? I bet he knows he's doing it. He could have told her his medical doctor a thousand times, he just doesn't because he knows it will keep her curious."

"Being with a psychiatrist can be dangerous, Quinn," Joanna advised. "Look at this; he knows exactly what this young man he never met is thinking. He must be downright positive he knows what you're thinking."

"Is that so?" Quinn asked Paul, grinning broadly.

"Yes," Paul teased. "I know everything that goes on in that mind. All honest. All good. Totally sensible. Needs to be taken by surprise every once in a while to keep her from thinking she is ruling us all."

Zander Smith looked white; probably, pain.

"By the way," Quinn said, "I am stuck moving to the midnight shift, so you won't see me for about a day and a half; Terri Hayes will still be here in the swing shift and Gail Klein has the day shift for this hall. So I will see you bright and late at midnight the day after. I hate that shift! But there's always one of us here. Somebody has you in mind all the time; and Dr. Jones will be in and out and on call if anything is wrong. Nobody's going to come in to see you without one of us telling you first, you know."

"Thanks."

"You should take this stuff; you know it'll work. Make you groggy, yeah, and you might not be able to stay awake through the Michigan 400. I'll tell you who wins, though."

"I don't need it."

"Yes you do. There's studies out there that actually say, pain itself is a condition. People used to die just because of it. You have it, and it can slow down your recovery. Minimize it and you don't just not feel it. You feel better and heal up faster."

"Can you answer a question?"

"Yes."

"I keep seeing your name tag over and over. Q. Connor. Not to be familiar, I mean, I won't try to use your first name, I just can't guess what it is. I can't even start to guess."

She smiled.

"What's so funny?" he asked. "What did I do now?"

"I'll tell you when you tell me where you're from, I mean, city and county, and the name or street or anything about any doctor who ever examined you - in Florida or anywhere else."

"I can easily ask somebody your name. I think it must be Questioner. That's it."

"Call me whatever you want," she said, going out.

"Why don't I try?" Joe Quinn said. They were sitting around in the Connors' living room after watching the Michigan 400 on TV. "I'm retired. What better thing have I got to do than be assistant to Quinn Connor, R.N., the best nurse in the world?"

Quinn thought for a moment. "A little irregular. But it might work. I'm willing to go with irregular at this point. Otherwise, hitting him over the head will be my pain control method."

"Ok, you're doing good. Just remember the Irish."

"I know. I have my temper under control. This must be a test. This is it. The test for my temper. There are times I think I'm going to lose it. I would kill the patient, mark my words, if he didn't also make me laugh other times. There's a balance there. Fortunately."

"You would never harm any patient in any way. Not even yelling. Yell at me as if I'm him."

"Later," she laughed.

"Is there a way to give him an injection when he's not looking?" Dan asked.

"I don't know of any," Quinn said.

"Well, you can tell him I will personally come in and shove the pills down his throat," answered Dan.

"Thanks for the thought, Dad," Quinn said, "I'll pass on your assistance for now."


	9. Chapter 9

**Part 9**

Alexis went to the police station. She talked to V. Ardanowski, recently promoted to detective; they went over all the records they had on Zander from the high school drug sting investigation, but couldn't come up with anything new.

V. suggested they visit the FBI liaison, who had taken some interest in the case at the time.

They went together to Hannah Scott's office. She thought she might be able to assist them, and was looking up the procedures for the location of missing persons, and V. and Alexis were looking over her shoulder at her computer screen, when Detective Taggart, unable to resist a congregation of three good looking women, stuck his head in and asked what they were doing.

"What is it about Zander Smith that gets women who are normally smart to waste their time trying to help him?" he asked. Still, his detective's innate curiosity got to him, and he ended up as one of the lookers-on.

Alexis regarded him for a moment. "You know, it is weird, but think about it. Men hate Zander; women want to help him. There must be some psychological explanation."

V. laughed. "I've heard Mac complain about the same thing," she said. "I can speak only for myself, but I've just never thought he was the menace to society that men do. Mac, Marcus, the Quartermaines who've come in here complaining. I just don't see much more than a misguided youth, but they seem to see the future destroyer of all civilization. Go figure."

"You know you exaggerate," Marcus Taggart said. "Still, that's true. You're falling for some sort of charm."

"I think you are telling me more about yourself than about any other guy," V. countered. "You exercise a charm that you know is meant to dazzle and not reveal. You project it onto this kid who is too reactive to lie or put on some sort of front. All he can manage is a shell. Get him upset, and you will find out something true. But with you, the way I see it is, you are revealing to me that you don't want yourself known too well, and you put up a front that is an active distraction."

"I like your theory," Alexis said. "That's it. Zander is just too impulsive to be a menace."

"But who is more dangerous in the long run?" Taggart asked. "A person who calculates his evil deeds, or a person who does them without thinking? It's the calculating person you might be able to catch. The unthinking or irrational one you can't. You have no way of predicting what they will do."

"I've always found Zander would listen to me. Sometimes, he even changed his current plan after listening to me," Alexis said. "So irrational, not entirely. I can't agree with you. His impulsive deeds still have some inner guide, so their evilness, as you put it, will only go so far. Whereas the calculator will never listen to you and deliberately plans an evil thing. And is more likely to get away with it without getting caught."

"He's never listened to me," Taggart said.

"It must be the way you put things," Alexis offered.

"I think so, too," V. said, "really, Marcus, you ought to let me deal with the younger offenders. I think I can pull off a motherly attitude, a sort of good-cop thing, so to speak, and get them to help us and themselves, and that it will work more efficiently than your threats and taunts and put downs. I remember that one day we were both talking to this very Zander Smith, and I thought he was going to jump across the table and try to throttle you, until I changed the subject."

"His attention is very present-oriented," Alexis offered. "When he's talking to me, he looks at me, he listens to me without taking his eyes off of me, or getting distracted. How many men do that? Why does he? Who raised him that way? It doesn't seem all bad."

"Right, and why doesn't he want you to know about it?" V. continued. "The questions just add up by the thousands when you get to thinking of it. If the parents beat and abused him, why not just say so, and say it's just too painful to discuss? If they abandoned him, it's the same."

"Because they didn't" Taggart answered. "He just did something wrong."

"Could be. But it is also likely that he thinks it is more wrong than it is," Alexis said. "He lived in my house; I know something from that. He's got a conscience. I even have thought on occasion that he was well brought-up. It only doesn't fit with any of the likely scenarios."

"There are juvy delinquents that even good parents can't control," Taggart argued.

"Well, I've run into those too, and Zander doesn't fit the pattern for their behavior," said V. 

"O.K.," Hannah said. "Now in the National Crime Information Center database, you can put in a description of a body. It sounds gruesome, but that is the end you're taking it from. Say you find an unidentified murder victim in your jurisdiction. You put all the data you can about it in this system. Then you can run it against the people reported missing, and use any hits as leads. Bodies have been identified that way."

"Do you have to have a dead body?" Taggart asked.

Hannah looked back down. "No, in fact, you can enter in descriptions of living people. You have the 'Unidentified Person File' and the 'Missing Person File.' In the UP file you can enter date on any unidentified deceased person, or on body parts if you've only found a dismembered body part. In addition," she continued, reading, "information can be entered on living persons of any age who are unable to ascertain their identities, for example, an amnesia victim or an infant."

"Unable, not unwilling," Taggart said.

"Oh heck," Hannah Scott answered. "Let's just pretend he can't."

"You know, I've haven't eliminated the possibility that he can't" Alexis said.

"O.K." Taggart said.

Hannah continued: "The Missing Person File also provides a number of categories for entry. Law enforcement officers generally think of this file in terms of missing juveniles. However, there are additional categories that allow a police department to enter a person of any age who is missing and under proven physical or mental disability, or who is senile. The file also allows officers to enter information on persons of any age who are missing under circumstances indicating that their physical safety may be in danger or where their disappearance may not have been voluntary."

"And any law enforcement agency in the United States can enter records in both the Missing Person and the Unidentified Person Files," V. read over Hannah's shoulder, "so let's put one in for the P.C.P.D."

Alexis and V. sat down in chairs in Hannah's office, opening their files. Hannah entered the name they had, that the birth date was unknown, and uploaded their fingerprint data. 

"Blood type," Hannah requested.

"We can get that out of the hospital, surely," Alexis answered.

"Corrective vision prescriptions."

"None that I know of or have seen a necessity for," Alexis said. 

"You could still get an exam done," V. said helpfully.

"Scars."

"Could all be from after he ran away."

"Tatoos."

"Same with that, but nothing I've seen or heard about. And I'm not willing to ask or look further." Alexis laughed. V. giggled, and said, "I am, but I'll think I'll have to settle for asking the nurses and doctors."

"That'll be the way," Alexis said.

"Dental characteristics."

"He's never been to a dentist that I know of," Alexis said. "Hard to imagine he would go for six month check ups on his own accord."

"That is hard to imagine," Taggart agreed.

They estimated age and height and weight and entered in hair and eye color and suspected origin from Florida.

"Though that could be a false lead," Alexis said ruefully. "I wonder if I can get Bobbie Spencer to talk to him and find out if she thinks he really knows anything about Florida."

"So now we just wait 24 hours," Hannah said. "Every night, the FBI runs the data in the UP file against the data in the MP file and matches it up."

"OK, and I'll get the blood type information and all that," Alexis said. "Thanks a million, you guys."


	10. Chapter 10

**Part 10**

"I'm a hospital volunteer," Joe Quinn said. "Name of Joe Quinn. "I'm a retired engineer, and my goddaughter is a nurse, and when I said retired people should do things for the community, well you know how these conversations go, so here I am. I have learned two things about you: you like motor racing, and you don't like pain killers. So I am supposed to distract you with interesting facts about racing, since I have filled my head with all sorts of useless information on the subject, or irk you with my company so much that you want to take those pills."

"I already know which nurse this goddaughter is."

"You have my goddaughter quite perplexed," Joe said. "You appear to present a professional problem, the most trying of her career thus far. Don't worry, you won't be the last. Now I've never had a surgery. Lucky, I guess. You can bet I'd be taking whatever they gave me to take, though I've never taken anything like that. Now if they'd had something like that when I had my wisdom teeth out, I would have taken it for sure. That was the worst pain I ever had in my life. In those days, they didn't have all this fancy laser surgery and modern painkillers. Now it is no big deal. As you can probably tell me."

"No, I can't say I can."

"Well, if you have to have them out in the next few years, it won't be nearly as bad as this," Joe said. "You'll be out again in no time. Now this here, you're going to be held up a long time as it is, and it's going to hurt a long time, and hurt a lot worse than my boring stories from the past, and that's saying a lot. But if you want to take this stuff, I'll sit here with you, and make sure nobody pesters you. I come highly recommended. My goddaughter can tell you I've never hurt a fly. I mean, I have swatted a few flies here and there. But I can yell really loud. In the pit crews at Indy, you have to, or nobody is going to hear a word you say."

Zander started to smile in spite of himself.

"Who did you crew for?" he asked.

"Who didn't I crew for? In those days, everything wasn't so organized. You can see I'm not really all that young. There was Bill Vukovich and Bob Sweikert. Jimmy Bryant, Al Kelley, Johnny Boyd, Rodger Ward. You've never heard of them, I bet. Way back before your time. I'll never forget the race in '55. Vukie was killed in that race. He only drove one way, which was fast and hard."

Joe Quinn went on, by this time he was cranking away like he always did, like around the kitchen table after dinner. Whenever he would stop for a bit, Danny or Tim or Brad or Quinn would ask him a question or ask him what happened next. Zander Smith didn't do this, but whenever Joe paused, he was still looking at him and didn't look too annoyed. Joe thought it worth another spin. Maybe I can put him to sleep, he thought.

He didn't sleep. But he did ask what happened next a couple of times. Joe kept spinning away, he talked about the Brickyard, and different kinds of cars, and Daytona and Dover and the Poconos.

He veered off into his college days at Notre Dame and how he played baseball there. "Baseball, not football, doesn't that figure? We were like next to nothing," he said. He started on what Quinn called his Baseball Stories, the crazy doings of the characters who had played with him on that team. Finally, Zander Smith closed his eyes. Joe Quinn smiled. A couple more of the outfielder's silly pranks, and the patient would be out of consciousness of pain for awhile.


	11. Chapter 11

**Part 11**

V. Ardanowski and Marcus Taggart were sitting at a table in Kelly's, drinking coffee. The night shift was just starting.

"I was reviewing the file for the thirtieth time, and I thought of going back to the principal at PC High, just to review again who were his friends, and who did he hang out with," V. said, "we weren't focused on that before. There must be somebody who knew him a little more than just in passing. Friends, girlfriends. But I wonder if I should be spending the taxpayer time on it, because it's a medical case now."

Taggart looked thoughtful. "We have zilch on this current shooting. I suppose it could legitimately relate to that. Who would want to shoot him? Do we even have anywhere else to start?"

"There's the Quartermaines," V. surmised.

"They won't tell us anything."

"They're so demanding. You'd think they'd be cooperative in return."

"You'd think. We'll hi there, Nurse Connor, isn't it?"

V. looked up to see a young woman in light green hospital scrubs, blonde hair up in a French braid, with a take-out cup of coffee.

"Yes," the girl answered. "You're the Detective."

"Marcus Taggart. Here, sit down, do you have a minute?"

"I guess. I'm not late."

He motioned her to the chair across from him, next to V.

"This is Detective Ardanowski."

"Hello."

"Hello. Pleased to meet you."

"Nurse Connor, you see, Detective Ardanowski, has this patient, Zander Smith. You know, the shooting we are working on?"

"Oh that case. I hardly know where to start on that case. Have you interviewed him yet?"

"I've been waiting for Nurse Connor to tell me it's o.k."

Quinn smiled, "Thanks, but I'll leave it up to Dr. Jones."

"Sure. I wouldn't want to talk to the patient a second before he can handle it," Taggart said, with just the slightest tone of sarcasm.

"He likes to come off as the hard-nose," V. explained to Quinn. "But I tell him it doesn't work well on your patient. Really, I should talk to him, because I can do it without putting him down. Taggart here has issues with unruly young men. Probably because he used to be one."

"See why she got promoted to Detective, Nurse Quinn? It's her unerring feel for human nature, in all of its variations. She even thinks she has a way to talk to Zander Smith. Some would call it hubris."

"I've been talking to him," Quinn said, "I guess he could talk about the shooting now. That's stressful though. I'll ask Dr. Jones."

"Thanks. In the meantime, we're going to pursue a lead we have at the high school," V. said.

"Do you have the bullets?" Quinn asked them.

"Bullets?" Taggart asked.

"Yes, don't you get the bullets and test them for striations?"

"I don't know if we have the bullets. Did we get them from the hospital?" he asked V.

"I'm pretty sure there're still there at this point," V. answered. "We'll get them. We don't have a gun to test them against, yet. But we ought to get a hold of them for the chain of custody. The hospital is ok, but I don't trust them totally when it comes to stuff like that. It's not their job – they're just focused on healing. As it should be, of course," she said, turning to Quinn.

"Can you tell me anything?" Quinn asked. "Where do you start if he didn't see the gunman or can't give a good description?" 

"Good question, Miss Connor," Taggart said. He added flirtatiously, "come down to the station sometime. I can show you the forensic lab. It's very important to an investigation. Though it's not everything. The human element is always still there. One place I'm going to start is Corinthos Coffee. He works there. Under the table. Of course, no one there will tell me a single thing. But I have to try, for the record. See, Corinthos is organized crime. Small time. But organized crime. Zander claims he's a shipping clerk. Maybe he is. But what is being shipped? They don't want me to find out about that. They don't want any of us finding out, and they certainly don't want the FBI liaison finding out. It's easy for Zander to run into trouble. He could be making deliveries, and run across the wrong person. Somebody from a rival gang. They do something like this to show Corinthos they are badder than he is. They could have been trying to hit Corinthos himself, of somebody higher up the food chain of that organization; but only got Zander. But Zander won't talk, because solving the crime against him could give us all kinds of leads for crimes his boss commits. Some kid like Zander can easily get stuck between a rock and a hard place in that environment."

"Are you telling me this is another thing he won't tell anybody about?"

"You bet I am. What else is there?"

"I'm not sure I can say. It might fall under medical confidentiality."

"Don't worry," V. said. "We know about it. Alexis Davis was in, and we're already working on trying to identify him. She thinks she can help him and he just doesn't understand it – so he'll appreciate her prying in the long run. We will get those medical records."

Quinn asked, "Why not look in the most wanted lists? Do they break them down by state?"

"We do that routinely," Taggart answered. "So he's not wanted, at least by any description we can match, by any other jurisdiction."

"Why would a person so not want to contact his parents?" Quinn asked this question of Taggart and V. aloud for the first time, but having thought of it at least 50 times before. "Do you think maybe they'd have him arrested?"

"Maybe," Taggart said. "Or maybe he does not want them to find out about what he has gotten himself into. He could figure that the chances his medical condition can kill him don't add much to the odds his way of life could anyway."

"I can hardly believe the Quartermaine's daughter could have anything to do with all this," Quinn said, "Especially when she was underage. A high school student. When I was in high school . ."

"Oh, I know. Me too," Taggart cut in. "But that, my friend, is another story yet. Criminals have charm. They always have that. You think you are invincible. But watch out. See how he draws you into his problems already?"

"Well, it is a part of my job, and it is natural to my personality to want to untangle a mystery. Shed light on the darkness. I hate secrets!"

"And don't think he doesn't know it. Don't let that innocent look draw you in. Just remember, over and over. Very few people end up getting shot randomly, in spite of the news."

"Marcus, back up just a little," V. put in, "It could be abuse, you know. There are reasons that he could have run away that aren't his fault. And once a youngster is on the streets like that, it's very common for them to get into the stuff he did. Why assume the worst?"

"With Zander Smith, it is usually right."

"Yadda, yadda," said V.

Quinn laughed. "I better get to the hospital now," she said.


	12. Chapter 12

**Part 12**

It was dark on the hall. Most of the patients were quiet. Midnight shift was easier that way. It was just hard to get yourself up for. There was a cosmic justice in the lower stress level that prevailed once you got yourself there, though.

She left a note for the girl on day shift to ask Dr. Jones about Z. Smith's ability to handle a talk with a police detective.

When she went to check on him he was lying still, awake.

"You're lucky," he said.

"Why?"

"To have that old guy. Your godfather."

"I've always thought so."

"How did he come to be your godfather?"

"My Dad is an engineer, and he's worked for McKinley – that's the name of the company, forever. Since I can remember. When he first got there, he didn't know anything. He says what you learn in college doesn't begin to show what you to do on a job. I don't thing that's entirely true, but that's a family debate subject. Anyway, the person who taught him everything he knows today, and who he has been friends with ever since, was Joe. They just have stuff in common. They go to the speedway together. Joe showed him how to work on cars. They go fishing. Dad needs somebody to help move somebody in or out of a house, he calls Joe, and gets some help with it. Dad needs to figure out what is wrong with a gadget, he calls Joe. Joe comes over, and they figure it out, and they fiddle with it, and they drink beer, and they fix it. I would call them best friends, even though Joe is older than Dad is, more like a big brother he never had, I suppose. Dad has little brothers. They ask him questions. My Granddad is more likely to need help than to give it. If his roof is falling off, Dad and Joe go and fix it."

"And then all this gets passed down to you. How to drive race cars. How to fix fishing poles."

"Yes," she smiled. "And to my brothers, too. I'm lucky that they never leave me out of anything on account of being a girl. But don't you have a godfather?"

"I don't know. I don't think so."

"You're not Catholic, I guess."

"No."

"Didn't your family have baptisms and the confirmations and all that."

"No. Oh no."

"Well, we did. Do. The family is so big, that between their baptisms, and first communions, and confirmations, and weddings and funerals, there's barely a weekend free in a summer."

"Most of that sounds happy."

"Oh yes. Even the funerals aren't too bad. They're always old, old people who die in my family. They are made out of some sort of cast iron, especially Mom's side. My great aunt died just before the 4th; she was 91. Can't argue about somebody dying when they are 91. You tell stories about them and some of them are funny. You end up laughing at a funeral! But I think it is the way it should be. She would have wanted us to laugh. When she was alive, she would have told stories on the deceased, too. Now as to her, you could hardly believe what she was most famous for."

"What was that?"

"A few years ago we were at the Port Charles Grill; I think I was here on a school break. My aunt, her name was Maggie, was there, and her son and his wife, and my Dad's cousin. I think my boyfriend at the time was there, from college with me. We had seen a movie, JFK. Everybody was arguing one side or the other. Someone must have said something for the one bullet theory, and Aunt Maggie argued back and said, 'well, then, why did Kennedy's head go back first if the bullet came from the back?' And as she said that she tossed her head back like the film showed his did. The chair was too light for the force she applied to this demonstration. It flipped back. She ended up with her head in this old guy's lap. He was sitting behind her at the next table. He got into a real tizzy about it too. We were laughing too hard to apologize to him for awhile. Including Aunt Maggie."

He smiled. "So who told the story at her funeral?"

"Don't remember. Anybody could do it. Even people who weren't there, like my grandfather, her brother. He wasn't there in the restaurant that night, but he can tell the story because he's heard it so many times. And he could imitate the irritable old man just like everyone else does too. Which gets everybody laughing again. Even though we've heard that story 100 times. For some reason, it's still funny."

"You're lucky."

"I know. But you must have grandparents. A great aunt or two."

"Never knew them."

"No? That's so sad. I don't know what I'd do without my grandparents."

"Are they still alive?"

"Dad's parents are, and Mom's mother is. Mom's Dad died almost right after I graduated from Notre Dame, and he was 87."

"You went to the same college as your godfather."

"Yep. I wanted to go here, to Port Charles University. But they practically forced me to at least apply to Notre Dame. Then when I got accepted there, I could hardly believe it. I knew I would have to go. They would never let me hear the end of it. Never. There was no way out."

"But are you glad, now?"

"Yes. It is another funny story, so I won't bore you with it now, about how half the family drove me out there. When I moved into the dorm, I was the only one with like an army to move me in. It took about 2 seconds to get all my stuff in the room. The hall was so crowded with Connors and Hanleys and the rest that the other girls were having trouble getting through to their rooms with their stuff."

"So I bet your godfather was part of this crowd."

"Of course. He loved having the excuse to go back there, let me tell you. We went to Indy every Memorial Day, but you don't need me to tell you that."

Later, at the station, Quinn scolded herself. How did I go on about all that stuff when he gave me a clue? And how can a person never have met any of his own grandparents?

But on second thought, she decided that not pressing it had been the better way. She could get a little out of him at a time without stressing him out. If she had asked the next logical question, he would only have refused to answer it. She'd have been starting to lose her patience, and started arguing. This way he wasn't mad at her for the time being, and might be less resistant.

Besides it was probably a lie. If he said he never met them, she realized, then she wouldn't ask questions about them.

And no baptisms and confirmations and all that? The same thing? She thought again about point blank asking him for his religion. What would be the point of refusing to answer that, whatever it was, there would be millions of adherents, and that alone would not identify him. But she'd know something.

"Drat him!" she said to herself. "I'm sick of him! Why doesn't he just answer normal questions like normal people? And he ends up knowing my life history!" She went to get a chart, determined not to think about the Mysterious Zander for the rest of the night.


	13. Chapter 13

**Part 13**

Alexis had to go to court in the morning and deal with a judge and a settlement conference, and worry about whether or not she would get out of there in time for a client deposition at another lawyer's office at ten; then she went to the deposition and sat through it and opposing counsel's threats to make motions over a dozen of his half-baked questions which she had told the client not to answer. Then she ran to her office, looked at the telephone messages, sighed at all she had to do; did not know where to start, and walked to the police station two blocks away from her office, so as to pace off some of the stress from the morning and answer one of the messages. 

Hannah Scott, the one she was there to see, was in the hall on her way back to her office, her lunch in her hands, propping up a mid-hallway door with her foot.

"Hey," she said when she saw Alexis, "Did you get my message? Come with me."

Alexis sat down across from Hannah and put her files down on the edge of Hannah's desk. Some papers fell out of one. She bent down to pick them up.

"Have some potato chips," Hannah said, pushing a bag to the middle of the desk and turning to the computer. "Let me get you a soda while this computer program gets going."

"Thanks. Diet whatever."

Hannah smiled. "Of course."

Alexis rifled through the papers. "Appalling," she thought. She often had this thought looking at old material in files. Nothing ever seemed to be as well documented as she had thought it was at the time. Her standard client form was there. Name: Zander Smith, and all of the rest of it was blank. Naturally she never could get everything filled in at first, and filled things in as a case progressed. But this form is absurd, she thought. Not even an address. Well, he lived with me; that's okay. No birth date. How can any client come through my office without my taking down a birth date? I hope that doesn't happen often.

It was not infrequent that she would read an older file of her own and have it look strange to her. It was as if the file belonged to some other organization or person. And that organization or person looked as if it were negligent and incompetent. There were so many details that had passed through her professional life, that if not for these relics, she would have forgotten it all. Sometimes, checking the oldest ones before they were closed, she couldn't even conjure up a picture of the client in her mind.

She knew she was never going to forget Zander, but she wondered at how the one client to whom she had gone so far as to offer shelter under her own roof was the one on whom she had the least data.

Social Security number; nothing, naturally. Driver's license number. Nothing. She tried to remember an occasion where he drove a car. She couldn't. She did remember Emily Quartermaine, her frequent overnight guest at the time (bringing on many annoying visits from Alan, Monica or Edward Quartermaine - or Ned Ashton, who was also there to bait or argue with Alexis herself about something having to do with the two of them - or even Reginald the Butler, sent on an Emily - search), telling her – what? Zander had driven her somewhere?

Zero phone numbers. He had been in the lock-up, which in one aspect, was helpful for Alexis, in that she didn't have to keep track of the ever changing client address and phone number. Sometimes it was as if clients demonically moved to new addresses just so she would have to find them.

She looked at her notes. Some of what she had written no longer made sense. But then she saw a short list of names with a brief heading: friends/roommates, all male. But the last was female and after it, Alexis had written "g/f."

"Girlfriend!" Alexis thought, trying to remember the girl, but concluding she had never ended up having to follow through and talk to her. But there was hope. Maybe this was the type of girl who was of normal curiosity and had gotten some basic information out of Zander.

Alexis had wracked her brains for what Emily had told her, but concluded that Emily must be a young woman exceptionally incurious about the boys she got involved with. Alexis couldn't remember a thing that hadn't been a present tense concern at the time. She remembered the Quartermaines in her face, Edward wagging his index finger at her. She remembered Emily begging her to do this or do that, let her stay, let Zander stay, find Zander, everything having to do with the now. 

Alexis marveled for the tenth time that day at least that she hadn't had a single heart to heart conversation of any kind with the young man living in her very house, except for the time Emily had broken up with him over his alleged attack on her grandfather. That hadn't dredged up any of his past, certainly. Any other conversations she had with him alone were when she had to prepare him for a statement, meeting, hearing or trial; always some presently stressful situation.

They had discussions about his future here and there. He had been grateful and always wanted to find some way to help her. She'd had him deliver papers to clients and run errands for her. He teased her by pretending he would not consider a tampon-run (he'd gone out and gotten them for her, anyway). She'd sent him out for a bottle of wine one tense evening, when a glass had sounded like what would hit the spot. He got it, she remembered. Who would sell him liquor without carding him? She wondered if it was worth attempting an interview of the owner of the liquor store around the corner and down the block, but decided against it. It was too long ago, hadn't happened enough times, and of course, all the clerks would be different by now.

Hannah came in with the soda. "Thanks," Alexis said. She put the papers down and popped the soda open and took a drink. She relaxed and sat back for the first time that day.

Hannah sat down an looked onto the computer. "Man, these federal records take forever," she commented. "As for the description, name and fingerprints, there are no federal warrants and no international warrants, and the criminal history is only what we already know, which is only the stuff from last year in this jurisdiction. Take the name out and it is the same. I also tried using the name alone and there are 1,510 persons using that name."

"Strange."

"Yeah, even with the common last name. I haven't heard that particular first name before. Anyway, active missing persons: and limiting to the last 3 years, we have 6,402 missing persons of such description; but if we limit it to Florida, we have 390."

"That doesn't sound too bad. It would take a long time to look at 390 records. But it's not absolutely overwhelming."

"Did you get a chance to get the information from the hospital?"

"Yes. A committee of nurses agrees on no tattoos or major scars. Dr. Quartermaine gave me a blood type, O positive."

"It would have to be the most common one, now wouldn't it?" Hannah typed this new information in. "Still, we will eliminate everybody with a record of a different blood type and anybody with a record of any scars and tattoos. So let's see what we get from that overnight."

The afternoon was hectic too. Alexis looked at her watch to see that it was already 6 p.m. She went back to her apartment, walking quickly.

When she looked through the mail, she saw an envelope addressed to her in Emily's writing.

It was a short note to her with a letter to Zander enclosed. Apparently, Emily had some concern that if she addressed the letter to Jake's, it might not get to him. There weren't any mailboxes for people who rented rooms there, and Emily had never seen Jake do anything with the mail.

Alexis decided to take it to the hospital.

She looked for Dr. Monica Quartermaine and found her by the third floor nurse's station. "Did the blood type help?" Monica asked.

"I don't know yet. Hannah is putting the information through, and there should be another report by tomorrow. But I have something to tell you."

She showed Monica the letter.

"Well, heck," Monica said, looking at it, "I knew it would be foolish to think she would just forget about it all. And obviously she doesn't trust her own family to deliver it."

"If she had sent this straight to Jake's, she'd have wondered why she didn't get an answer."

"Lucky thing she did that," Monica answered. "Thank you for telling me, though."

"I was thinking of him. Suppose I should read it? I was just weighing the probabilities, and thought there was a chance it could be something to upset him."

"Well, I don't see how it could be anything that bad. He's sitting up, and stable. I'm going to have him taken down for tests tomorrow. Maybe it'll cheer him up."

"O.K. Do you talk to her on the phone?"

"A couple of times. Why?"

"I know you don't want to tell her anything about the shooting, but if she brings him up and you can work it, maybe pump her for any of his history she might know?"

"Sure, I can pump with the best of them," Monica smiled. "Not a bad idea, actually, since she must know more than anyone else. At least something that would be a lead. I swear I'm going to strangle him! He told me this morning that I wouldn't be able to find anything out, anyway. As if any records on him were in some fortress where they couldn't be accessed anyway."

"Hmmm. I'll go talk to him now and give him the letter."

"Good Luck," Monica said.

Zander was sitting up, and looked up at her as she came in – he definitely looked more awake and closer to normal. Alexis hugged him. "I have a really cool surprise for you," she said. She handed him the letter. "I'll get out of here, so you can read that, but let me ask you just one question first."

"You would. I don't know who is worse. You or Nurse Questioner."

Alexis laughed. "Which one is that?"

"Nurse Connor, she gets mad at me every day."

"Can't say as I blame her. I know what it feels like, because you were my client, remember? You really are a pain. Why won't you take this medication? Nurse Ques – Nurse Connor complains about it every time I see her."

"You had a question?"

"O.K., it's this. Just talking to Dr. Quartermaine about her conversations with you earlier today. I just got to thinking. Remember, I'm your lawyer, so everything you tell me is in confidence. You remember that, right? I won't tell anyone what you tell me unless you want me to. You remember that, right?"

"Yes."

"It's genetic information she is interested in. She thought you hinted to her that maybe she couldn't get any records anyway. So the thing is, do you think you were adopted?"

"No."

"So you know who your biological parents are, right?"

"Yes."

"Poor family, not able to get a lot of treatment or have preventive exams and the like?"

"No."

"Family from a foreign country?"

He hesitated a second. Alexis thought she was onto something.

"Not me."

"Your parents?"

"Yes."

"One or both?"

"Both."

"You've lived in the United States your whole life?"

"Mostly."

"You've lived in a foreign country?"

"A couple of years."

"Was this your parents' foreign country?"

"Yes. But this is not just one question."

Alexis sat back. She laughed. "O.K. I just got more than anybody ever got. I'll be satisfied. For now."

"You're a sport," he said.

"Monica doesn't want Emily in on any of this."

"I don't either."

"But she does know, right? I think there should be someone you could talk to without any reservation, you know, somebody who knows your whole story."

"No, she doesn't."

"Is it that it's hard to talk about or that you're afraid something will happen?"

"You're out of questions."

"Oh. Right. Well, good night. I will be back, unfortunately for you."

"No, that's not true," he said. "Come back whenever you want."


	14. Chapter 14

**Part 14**

Paul and Quinn were having breakfast at Kelly's. Quinn had just gotten off work from the midnight shift. Paul was on his way in.

Alexis came in for a take-out cup of coffee, and saw Quinn as she began to walk out. She said hello, and was going to go on, when Quinn stood up and asked her if she would be able to sit with them for a minute. 

"I have something I want to tell you about," Quinn explained.

"O.K.," Alexis said, putting her briefcase down on the chair next to Quinn.

"Sit there," Quinn said, "we'll give this to Paul," she took the briefcase and gave it to Paul to put on the chair next to him. "This is Paul Whitman. He's a psychiatrist at the hospital. Paul, this is Miss Davis, you remember me telling you about her."

"Sure," he said, reaching across the table to shake her hand. "My girlfriend Quinn here, she's a lovely young woman. But she can't resist the mystery of your young friend Smith in the hospital."

Alexis was curious now. She took a sip of coffee. "I'm grinding away at Zander's story," she said, "nothing really usable yet, though. But I intend to get to the bottom of it."

"I was just telling Paul about this," Quinn said, "I did find out something, only I can't be sure it really means anything, or if it's just a red herring. I was talking to him the other night. I don't know how, but somehow I ended up telling him half my autobiography. Before I knew it, he was asking the questions. Still, in the course of this conversation, I was talking about my grandparents, and I asked him about his, and he said he'd never met them."

Alexis drank some more coffee, taking this in.

"See, I know I'm lucky with my family all living nearby. My grandparents always lived in the same town with my folks and aunts and uncles, and I know that's not the case with everybody. Some people live far away from their family and see them only at reunions and on holidays, and I get that," she directed this at Paul. Alexis realized Paul had been arguing that not everyone's family was like her own.

"But," Quinn went on. "Not seeing them much is one thing. Never having met them is weird. One could have died, or even two, but not all four. And this remark seemed to go to great aunts and uncles, too. They can't all have died."

Paul turned to Alexis and said, "I thought maybe he was adopted. So he knows the biological ones are the ones you are looking for, and he doesn't know who they are anyway."

"That would make sense," Alexis answered. "but heck, why not say so? Wouldn't it get us off his back? But I thought of that too. Last night I specifically asked him that. He said no. I'm glad I ran into you. We can put things together. I got him to tell me something else - his parents are from a foreign country."

"That fits a little better," Paul said, looking at Quinn. "Doesn't it? Maybe they were too far away to visit?"

"No, I don't buy it," Quinn said. "How much do plane tickets cost? If one set, I could see that and a falling out, say the parent not speaking to his or her parents, but both of them?"

"Maybe their marriage was against the culture," Paul said. "Not arranged properly, or something. They fled for love!"

"Doesn't explain why their son won't talk to them or about them, though."

"There are some countries people can't go back to, and where people can't just leave from," Alexis said. "Like Iran, that's one. They could have fled Iran in 1979, come here, settled down, had kids. They can't go there again. I don't think just anybody can come out of there, either. There you have it, a kid who cannot meet his grandmother."

"See what's happening here?" Paul said. "He may want to keep it a secret, but he can't. A person just can't go around living like that. Somebody has to know who you are, where you come from. You'll go nuts. He ends up telling you something anyway. So keep at it, and you'll get more and more."

"This is right up your alley," Quinn said. "I wonder if there's some reason to have him referred to a psychiatrist."

"Oh, he'd never cooperate with a psychiatrist," Alexis said. "but you have a good point, Doctor. I think backing off from direct confrontation is a key. I looked in my old file, too, I have a possible old girlfriend. Now that we've had this conversation, I feel pretty confident she can give me another clue."

"Do you think the hospital even could get medical records from a country like that?" Quinn asked.

"It could be possible," Paul said. "I know records come in all the time from other countries. But we're talking Germany and England and Australia. The kiddies would have gone there to visit granny. So it looks like the Axis of Evil is it."

They were all silent a moment, drinking coffee, brain gears cranking this way and that.

"What about the witness protection program?" Paul said, as if his internal light bulb had just gone on. "What do the authorities do with medical records of people that go into it?"

"Yes! There's a thought," Alexis said. "Though I think he could just tell me that, but maybe they are not supposed to. Or maybe even it's the parents who disappeared under it."

"But wouldn't people's children go with them into that?" Quinn asked. ""I can't imagine anybody separating themselves totally from their children. Even their adult children."

"I don't have children," Alexis said. "But I'd take the risk, unless, of course, on second thought, you really thought that they were in your zone of danger and you had no other way. Still, one would think that in such a case the government would have put the children into the program on their own account."

"Maybe this program is more fictional than real," Paul laughed. "The more I think about the details, the more unworkable the whole thing seems to be."

"I can try to find out more about it," said Alexis. "You're right, though. How could it really work? Zander can't be in it, because he doesn't have a driver's license and a social security card, and goes to work under the table; now it's obvious why; to avoid using his own I.D. The feds would give him all that with the new I.D."

"For that matter, why not get a fake I.D.?" Paul asked. "There are people who do that. Isn't identify theft a big problem?"

"Yeah," Quinn said, laughing, "Everybody goes on about what a criminal Zander Smith is! So he has a conscience when it comes to identity theft?"

"I'll sell drugs to kids and commit assault, battery and mayhem," Paul said in a faked voice, as if he were imitating someone else, "and even disturb the peace every once in awhile, but I draw the line at stealing someone's identity."

Alexis couldn't help smiling. Quinn was bent over laughing.

"And I bet he didn't register for the draft, either," Paul added, grinning.

"Stop!" Quinn ordered him. "You're killing me."

"He's great," Alexis said to Quinn, "where did you find him?"

"At the hospital."

"Maybe I should spend more time there," Alexis said.

"You should!" Paul said. "Nothing wrong with another pretty face around."

"He really is great," Alexis said. "How can you stand it?"


	15. Chapter 15

**Part 15**

"Well, how 'ya doin'?" Paul said, "I'm Paul Whitman, another doctor. Dr. Jones referred you to me, because I had this brilliant idea, talking to him about your case."

Zander Smith was sitting up, perfectly alert, in pain, Paul noticed, of course, but also obvious, from a slight bend forward, with his right forearm unconsciously pressed against the abdomen.

"Great. I love brilliant ideas."

Slightly sarcastic, Paul noted. The stress and pain were driving undermining the efforts to keep up the wall that years of practice had strengthened, but only just enough. 

"I was doing this really interesting research of runaways," Paul said. "Even a thing like that takes certain abilities. Those who don't succeed at it turn around and go home. Those who do succeed have the ability the take big risks, they even like risks, and they have an ability to think and act fast. Same qualities successful businessmen have. Did you ever know that?"

"No. I didn't know that."

"Now you do. It always helps to know a thing or two about ourselves. Anyway, that includes the physical too, i.e., the medical."

"Yeah."

"So about the Long Branch, Q, what is it?" Paul looked at the chart, instinct telling him to pretend not to know the name with precision and to treat it like it was no big deal. Just some stupid worry of doctors and women. "Long Q-T Syndrome," he read. "You know there's all the doctor and patient confidentiality, and even privileges that I wouldn't be able to testify in court. So say you do this: tell me the doctors, and I get in touch with them, as colleagues, and I say that I need these records and the fact I need them is confidential, too. A doctor would never report to anybody that a colleague wanted to discuss one of his patients. So I get them, white out all the names, and write over some identifier like X and Y or Mother and Father. Voila! Dr. Quartermaine can read your records and not learn a thing she doesn't already know that has no direct bearing on your medical condition."

"Some doctors would tell certain other people."

"Some would, certainly, but it's rare. I could have another colleague contact the doctor. This colleague is just a friend of mine and he's got like zero, totally zero, interest, and he's in Texas. So the trail from that end leads to him and no further."

"You probably think I'm nuts, but there are people who would pressure the guy in Texas and even threaten him. Dr. Quartermaine said she had to talk to them, too."

Paul noticed the use of the pronoun "them," indicating even a resistance to refer to the relationship. "Well, she'll have to do without that," he answered. "Still, what she would have is better than nothing, and it could lead somewhere away from them but still likely to produce some information. See we don't want to bother you about your identity, just your medical condition. Doesn't matter how well the people knew you. In fact, I just had another brilliant idea. Under all this same confidentiality, we have somebody look into the medical history of your grandparents or your cousins. There's some legal way to do that, I'm sure. Some of these people might have been asked, so they'd mention your parents as their cousin, or whatever it is, that had a problem, and we'll go on your word your parents didn't have a problem, so when it comes right down to it, what Dr. Quartermaine wanted to talk to them about is these aunts and grandparents and cousins and whether or not they had a problem with this Long P-T Boat thing."

Zander Smith laughed, but that brought on a spasm of pain.

"Be careful of those stitches," Paul advised.

"Think about it anyway," Paul added. He put the chart down and got up. As he went out he said, "I'll be back the next time I have a brilliant idea." 

"I'm sure you will," Zander Smith said.


	16. Chapter 16

**Part 16**

Joe Quinn was talking to Zander Smith about the Bristol 500. "That car of Gordon's gets tight on the long runs. Too many accidents in that one."

"It gets very wild out there," Zander agreed. "Strange track."

"Hard to pass on," said Joe. "Trouble will find them if they aren't patient."

Dr. Monica Quartermaine come in with an orderly and a wheelchair. "I can give you an EKG, at least. How would you like to get out of this room for awhile?"

"It's something I've always dreamed of," was the answer.

"May I wheel him down, or does that go against the regulations?" asked Joe Quinn.

"Well," Monica shrugged, "I don't see why not," "Just go with them, please," she said to the orderly.

The orderly got Zander into the wheelchair.

"Everything looks different from over here." he said. "Thanks," he added, to Joe, a little shyly.

Joe wheeled him to the elevator and to the lab. After they had finished the test, he asked the orderly if he could wheel the patient outside for a little while. The orderly went to a desk phone, called and returned, saying that Dr. Jones said it would be all right to take 10 minutes out in the garden.

"Nothing like a little fresh air," Joe said. "We used to take the kids camping up in the mountains. They got more energy. Course, they already had plenty. Even we got some more, though."

Zander smiled. "Kids. You mean Nurse Questioner and her two little brothers, like you usually do?"

"The very ones."

"But didn't you have your own?"

"No, I had a stepson for awhile. Don't know where he lives now, though."

"You were married, then?"

"Yeah, a few years. Then my wife left me, sudden-like. She was from Korea, originally. I don't know what she didn't like, she didn't say. Now she lives in a cabin up in Maine. So it wasn't the country," he grinned.

"I'm sorry."

"It wasn't too bad. Dear John letter, you know. I always wondered why she had to leave first and then write a letter."

"I know all about that."

"How so?"

"I got one of those. But it's not my wife, so it can't be as bad as it was for you."

"Now that's the last thing you need. Well, I wish that had not happened just this week, at least. Want me to read it out loud for you and make fun of it? That's what Danny and Kathleen did with mine. Sounds bad. But they got me laughing, actually. It helped. But her English was bad, and that made it easy for them. Not that they generally make fun of people's bad English. It was just that they didn't like her much and they didn't like her letter; and they didn't like her leaving, even though they didn't like her. Hard to explain."

"I was going to put her through college and everything. I've got a good job, though everybody says it is bad, it is good compared to what I've been used to before. But I can hardly laugh anyway, or my stomach kills me. Maybe in a few weeks."

"OK. Just call me."

"It is great to get out of there. Your fresh air theory is good."

"It's a good thing it's summer, and not raining."

"Yeah. Nice to get away from the questioners. I mean, I don't mean anything against Nurse Connor. It's just I realize I've let more slip than I have in years. I can't think of a way to get them to understand they're just getting themselves into stuff they will wish they hadn't."

"They just don't know what they are getting into. Like Todd Bodine at Bristol."

"Yeah."

"If you told them the whole thing, they'd know. They'd back off then. Then again, some of them won't. But at least they wouldn't stumble into it."

"It's just not worth it. I've never felt bad that I can remember. How those squiggly lines in the machine can say I feel bad when I don't? Not from that, at least."

"If something happened, those doctors would feel worse than you, just because they saw that something could happen. If they could have done something about it. I see you're worried about the trouble they'd get into. But there's also the trouble you could get into. Worse than heart trouble. "

"Worse."

"Too bad for you that you're not Irish. You have the worst luck I've ever seen. Where is this young lady? I would like to go and give her a lecture."

"I don't know where she is," Zander said. "But thank you. Picturing you giving her this lecture does almost as much."

"Save that letter," Joe advised, starting to push the wheelchair to go back in. "Someday you are going to think it is funny. I promise."


	17. Chapter 17

**Part 17**

When the orderly left the room, after putting Zander back into bed, Joe Quinn sat down again.

"It would just be so much more work than they think it is," he said, to the ceiling.

"They're willing to do it," Joe said.

"The shrink, I looked up his name, and he's the shrink. They've got one of those on me. He'd be looking for people I don't even know in a foreign country. I don't even know whether they'd be alive still. I don't know what part of the country; it's big, and they wouldn't tell me later what cities they were from, and if they told me when I was younger I don't remember. I looked at that map over and over trying to get some city to sound familiar. I've looked for these people myself, and don't know where to start."

"People search their family tree," Joe said, thoroughly confused, and deciding it was better to leave it be without asking questions. "I know Kathleen traced hers back to the very guy who came over on the boat from Ireland, and she traced the Connors back there too. She knows whatever very town in Ireland they came from in the 1800s. She must be able to figure out two generations ago. You were a kid. Probably a terrible investigator."

"I don't know anything about these people. I can figure out what the grandfathers' names must be. They must not care all that much about my parents, or by now they could have found them. Still, I can't be sure they wouldn't turn my parents back on me. I swore I wouldn't go near them again or have anything to do with them until my little brother was 18, when I'd run to his rescue and help him with getting away from both of them. And at that, I will have a hard time finding him. And I'm not much of a rescuer, I know. But I still have a couple of years."

"You wouldn't think anybody would help you with that, would you? Now as it is, I have nothing better to do." 

"Rich people can do terrible things. They can make up medical records. And you've got your family, I mean, your Connor family. That's something better to do. These rich people, they can do bad things to better people."

"They can't touch us. Exactly why. What are they going to do? Buy out the state of New York? They'd have to buy out McKinley Engineering and the whole school system. This hospital and all the other hospitals in the world. McKinley is now owned by a consortium of one multinational and a couple huge corporations that yesterday probably merged with two other corporations. And then what are they going to do? So you see, our very smallness gives them nothing to latch onto. How'd they get so rich, by the way? Danny might want to try it."

"Just by working at it and pushing and exploiting the system that wasn't theirs and not caring about much else. Having nothing better to do. Not giving a damn about anybody else."

"If they aren't criminals who will do anything violent, I don't see real dangers. If I say, Mr. Smith, tell me your medical history, he says next: tell me where my son is or I won't tell you. I say: you would rather your son be severely ill than just tell me your family medical history. He gives me the medical history."

Zander smiled. 

"Well, I know I'm an innocent babe in the woods when it comes to this."

"I don't mean it that way. In a good way. Really."

"I know it. So you don't have a thing to be concerned about for me."

"He hires this army of lawyers and stuff. They find me. Using you, of course."

"Must be. Or they'd have found you by now. Maybe you're smarter than you think."

"He pays a doctor to make up any set of records that requires me to be where he thinks best for the purpose of going to her to blame it on her."

"They wouldn't be divorced, would they?"

"They're divorced. Very divorced. They've been working on this divorce for years. Just because the decree is signed doesn't mean they're not still working on the divorce. It goes on and on."

"Guess he wishes she'd just go find a cabin in Maine."

"She'd never go to a cabin in Maine. Not unless he needed a cabin in Maine, and only if it was the one he needed."

"I hope there are no stepparents involved in this too. It sounds like a bad soap opera as it is."

"No. But it's been 4 years. Plenty of time to draw two unsuspecting people in."

"They can be charming. Persuasive."

"Yeah, oh yeah. Very talented."

"They sound like enough to make a guy want to leave home and give up all the perks of being rich and live on the streets."

"Nice of you not to add and sell drugs to kids."

"Well, I can't say what I'd do in the situation. Never been in it. Don't be rough on yourself. You can't say what you'd have done in my situation. I dare say you would not have sold drugs had you been in it."

"Thanks for saying that. I've never heard anybody put it like that before. Really."

"Take a rest now. Take these pills. I'll be here, just sitting here reading, and when Nurse Question comes you'll be too out of it to fend off questions. An offer you cannot turn down!"

Zander looked at the letter lying on the table, then at the ceiling, then at Joe. "OK," he said.


	18. Chapter 18

**Part 18**

"How's the marriage issue going?" Joanna asked Quinn, coming to the nurse's station toward the end of the midnight shift. "Any pressure?"

"None."

"Are you thinking maybe that's a good sign, or just glad it went away?"

"I don't know, really. I haven't thought about it."

"Haven't thought about it!"

"Life is just busy. So much stuff to do."

"Okay. You don't have time for wedding-planning."

"Oh, I get it. You can't wait to start helping someone with that. It's fun planning them. I've had a friend get married practically every weekend this summer. I am a professional bridesmaid."

"Does Paul go with you to these weddings?"

"Some yes, some no. Usually if they're here in town."

"I remember. The couple years right after college are like that. It's fun, though. But it can keep you busy. Well, I see you've done your whole round except for your favorite patient. Saving the best for last."

"I'm one of those people that likes to do all the simple, straightforward things first and get them out of the way, then tackle the problems."

Joanna laughed.

"Look at this," Quinn was reading from the chart. "Never a single normal day! Here is what Terri Hayes wrote: Det. Taggart came to visit pt. I heard pt. yelling at Det. Taggart from two rooms down. Went down to room to ask Det. Taggart to come back later. Det. Taggart left. Calmed pt. down. Heart monitor ok."

"You could look at that two ways," Joanna said. "He's well enough to yell."

"You always do see the bright side. I would be lost without you."


	19. Chapter 19

**Part 19**

"Grrrrrr!" Quinn said, and tossed Zander Smith's girlfriend's letter. " I was counting on her. She was supposed to be a distraction from the pain, not another problem! Do you ever have five minutes with no new problems?"

"The only thing that sticks with me," he smiled.

She was looking at the chart already. "But wait! A miracle! You took some of the medication? Is this real? Or did Nurse Hayes make a mistake? She must be wrong. She is usually so accurate."

"That stuff is so strange," he said. "It makes you feel really weird. Very calm. Nothing hurts. People could come up to you and insult you and you'd just think, ok. Have you ever taken it?"

"No. I've never had surgery. But if I'd had what you had, I'd feel ok about taking it. There must be a million studies to show it won't hurt you and will even help you. Some people get addicted, but that's a different problem. It isn't automatically addictive and such addictions don't arise from just taking it for awhile after a surgery. If that were true, either it wouldn't be used or it would have a ton of warnings." She stopped to pick up the letter and read a few lines of it. 

"Which is worse, that, or ex-Mrs. Quinn's?"

Quinn laughed, throwing back her head even, laughed for several seconds. "Oh no! You've heard about The Letter?"

"Yes. You say that like in capital letters. It must be infamous."

"You unfortunate thing. Soon you may be subjected to The Letter itself. Not to mention The Comments."

"I did way better than that. I got an offer to have my own letter be torn to bits, or whatever it is that your parents do with this kind of letter. Joe Quinn said he would do it himself."

"Oh, that'll be good. Let me help. But don't tell Dr. Quartermaine about it, though."

"Do you think I would tell them anything?"

"OK, then."

After work, Quinn stopped at Kelly's for coffee with Joe.

"Zander told me enough that I got the basic idea," he said. "I don't feel right telling anybody about it, though. Just seemed to be in confidence."

"If that's what you think is right, ok. Like Paul said, it's got to help him just to tell somebody. You're a miracle worker! I couldn't believe that chart saying he took the medication!"

"I don't think he means to be difficult. He just got used to deciding everything on his own, and he thinks of you guys as walking into a hail of fire you aren't expecting. He's used to it, you aren't, so he tries to spare you. Apparently it would be rather tough to get a straight medical history, compared to most people, anyway."

"Maybe he is a clone!"

Joe laughed. "Dropped down from another planet?"

"You must be talking about my Zander," they looked up to see Alexis Davis.

"Hi," Quinn said, "sit down, Miss Davis." She introduced Joe to Alexis.

"Hannah at the station has me down to 360 missing Floridians of similar description and the right blood type or unknown blood type," Alexis said. " I think I can manage that. Tedious, but I can look through that number."

"There are race tracks all over Florida," Joe Quinn said. "but a big one in Daytona. This kid knows a lot about cars. So much, I'd suggest for lack of anything better, start with Daytona."

"Thank you," Alexis said. "I will. I'm going to talk to the old girlfriend now. Hey! Go with me! Three heads are better than one. It shouldn't take that long."

Quinn looked at Joe. "I'm game."

"OK," Joe said.

They went up the elevator of the tall, fancy new office building to the 15th floor penthouse offices of Deception Company. "I'm here to see one of the models," Alexis told a gentleman who apparently acted as receptionist. "Cheryl Shue."

"Is she expecting you?"

"Yes, I called ahead."

Quinn looked at Alexis. "What a small world. I met her once. I'm pretty sure of the name, and I recall she was a model. She was going out with my old boyfriend."

"That is quite a coincidence," Alexis said. "She went to PC High, too. It looks like she graduated the year before last. Did you go there? You might know some people I know."

"No, I went to Mercy. Catholic, you know. But we played each other in sports. I was a cheerleader. There were always some people I knew at PC High."

"Let's go out for a drink sometime," Alexis said, "We can find out how many degrees we are already connected."

"Great idea."

The reception man was back. "Right this way, Miss Shue is in here," he led them down a long hallway into a big room decorated like a tropical jungle clearing. Various models were wearing outfits with various jungle themes. Cheryl was wearing a camouflage bikini, and a lot of make up. The gentleman ran to her with a khaki cover up. 

Alexis introduced herself.

"Hi, won't you sit down, er, uh," There were various jungle covered logs and tree stumps. The gentleman ran and found some folding chairs. Joe and Quinn looked amused. Alexis dug out a yellow pad.

The model sipped some water, and she thought she should offer them some. "Nothing, thanks," they all said. She insisted, and the gentleman started running around.

"This is a nurse at the hospital, Quinn Connor, and her godfather, Joe Quinn; and I thought you wouldn't mind if they sat in, both have learned some information about my client on their own, and we're trying to put our heads together."

"I don't think you'll remember me," Quinn said. "We met once; I think it was at the Port Charles Grill, and you were there with Scott Jankowski."

"Sure, I remember you," Cheryl said. "I hear about you a lot. Oh, all good," she added.

"You still seeing him, then?" Quinn asked, mischievously.

"Yeah. You still seeing the tall guy?"

"No, but someone else. A doctor."

"Oh, so we didn't just switch old boyfriends," Cheryl said.

"No, Zander Smith's my patient," Quinn said. "It's the medical information we need, to follow up on the family. To find out if some symptoms come from a genetic disorder."

"I don't think I can help, because I don't know the name. Since you called I've thought and thought, and all I know is Smith, and I think you said you don't think that's it?"

"Right," Alexis said. "Still, we're getting some hints and so whatever you talked about would help. He just won't tell us anything straight up. We squeeze here and there a get a drop. So I'm asking anybody who even knew him for whatever they might know. I suppose you got the same wall of silence?"

"Not totally. I can help you there, I think."

"It's his parents I'm after mainly. Did he mention them?"

"Yes. I was in high school. My parents got divorced. We were dating. He was really understanding. One weekend, it got really bad. My father made me go with him. I had a date, with Zander, and I didn't want to go. My father yelled at my mother that she put in my head that I didn't want to see him - my father. That was untrue, I was in high school and had a date with a guy, you know, it was really all about that. My mother would tell my father I didn't want to go see him for the weekend, and leave it at that. She didn't explain it was just that I had a date. I had said, "I don't want to go" in those words, but my mother knew what I meant. So Dad brought out the child visitation order, and said I had to go, and I didn't want to, and we got into this big fight. The neighbors called the police The police came and read the order and said I had to go. Those days, we didn't have cell phones. I couldn't call Zander, and asked my mother to."

"He found me next day, which I thought was a really nice thing to do. I don't know how he did that or how he even got there. My dad was at this house in this town about 30 miles north of here with this woman, who I never was too thrilled to see. Between just wanting to do stuff with my friends and not really wanting to see this woman, I never was too thrilled to have this weekend visitation with Dad. He kept taking that as that I didn't want to see him and my mother was behind it. My mother thought that was the woman that wrecked the marriage, you know."

"Sure," Alexis said.

"I know you want to know about Zander. The reason I told you all that was, he was so understanding because the same thing happened to him. But worse. It was so bad, he said it was why he left home. I must have been too upset to find out more about it. Right now I'm really upset that I didn't. But that weekend was the worst my parents ever got. Zander didn't even want to see his parents again. He didn't ever want to be in the middle of it again, and just had to make it to 18 without either parent getting a hold of him again."

"Thank you. That's great," Alexis said, "really very helpful."

Joe Quinn spoke up, "Any siblings mentioned?"

Cheryl regarded him a minute. She shook her beautiful head. "No. But I remember an odd advice he gave me when it was at the worst. He was so understanding about it all. I'll never forget it."

"Advice?"

"Yeah, he said not to let my father or mother take me out of the country without my United States passport. I guess that happened to him, and it sounded like it caused him all kinds of grief later. He said scream like hell and don't get on the plane!"

"Well thanks again. Here's my card. Can you call me if you remember anything else?"

"Sure. He's OK, isn't he?"

"He's OK"

"He was really understanding. Very kind to me when I went through all that. Gee, I hope there's nothing wrong with him."


	20. Chapter 20

**Part 20**

Alexis, Quinn and Joe walked through the park, mulling it all over.

"Hey, Quinn, what Zander told me," Joe said, "really wasn't much different. The young lady, Miss Shue, really has the same story, with more detail, in fact. But basically the same thing. Parents that sound like a mix of - I don't know, let's see. Bonnie and Clyde crossed with Diana and Charles."

"They sound like my family a little," Alexis said. "But what they most sound like is the Quartermaines. Maybe the Quartermaines, on speed, with international connections. Why didn't I think of that? Living in the foreign country. Parents taking him out of the US, of course, wait! There's going to be data from the FBI on that. This can really be narrowed down a lot! I've got to go to Hannah Scott again. There can be Interpol records, surely one parent tried to run after the other and reported the other. I hope."

"Still don't see why he wouldn't just tell you this, Ms. Davis," Quinn said to Alexis. "Without giving names, just to explain to you why he doesn't want to contact them."

"Alexis. Call me Alexis. Me neither. Maybe he knows it wouldn't turn me off. I'm older than he is. I'm a lawyer, I'm more experienced. Surely because he can't solve the problem at his age doesn't mean it can't be solved. He's got to let me help. He tries to handle himself what people could help him with."

"Afraid he thinks it all comes back on him," said Joe. "You can be older and wiser, he thinks, but his parents are a special breed. The law itself hasn't been able to handle them, apparently. He believes they will take care of you in a second, and have him off somewhere."

"Yeah," Alexis said. "You know, you've got a point there. He'll still try to keep me out of the trouble. He would be hard to persuade on that point, I imagine. No wonder he was able to bond so well with Emily! Her family is always doing stuff to control her, but it must have seemed like child's play to Zander!"

Suddenly Quinn gave Joe a big hug.

"Now what's that for?" he smiled down at her.

"For being a salt of the earth guy."

"Remember you Mom and Dad, too."

"I will."


	21. Chapter 21

**Part 21**

"He won't say a thing," Detective Taggart was complaining to Dara Jensen, one of the deputy D.A.s, in the hallway as Alexis walked in. "Naturally, I didn't expect it, and don't get any cooperation from Corinthos either. Of course not. Smith is a so-called employee. There's something fishy about the whole thing. Smith had just been locking A.J. Quartermaine in the employee break room, apparently, this kind of thing is part of the job description. You ever had a job like that? Thought not. We can get him for that, can't we? Unlawful imprisonment or something."

"Let him see what big daddy Corinthos will do for him," Dara answered, sharply.

"Probably let him take the fall. I looked at the log that day and it was I who got the call from the Quartermaines complaining that they didn't know where A.J. was and he missed picking up his son and all that. When I got the call for the shooting, in the process of searching the place I found the locked-up missing heir. You don't suppose Corinthos sent these guys to his own warehouse to shoot A.J., do you?"

"Well, they have this code of honor. They don't hit civilians, and they don't hit them on personal matters, certainly."

"Yeah, that's what I mean. It's not the Quartermaine style either, though. Maybe with their other reasons for shooting Zander, it all came to a boil . . . Well, hello there," he said, seeing Alexis at just that point.

"Well, hello there, yourself," she answered. "Hi, Dara. I'm sure Zander said he couldn't see anybody, or they had masks on."

"Yeah, and I didn't believe it, but now I'm wondering if we are seeing an incompetent hit squad. They go after Corinthos, it was dark, and Zander just comes out of the dock and can easily be taken for Corinthos. But then, suppose this Carly Corinthos – hasn't she taken shots at people before? – decides she is going to get A.J. for once and for all? That's one way to end a custody battle."

"Worth looking at," Dara said. "Not impossible. Not impossible at all."

"Sonny wouldn't put a hit out on a personal matter," Alexis said. "But his wife. She is crazy. She would make a mistake like that, too."

"Wouldn't she have an alibi? Who picked up the boy?" Dara asked. "I am getting sick of Corinthos and his games, his wife's games, and sick of the Quartermaines and their games, and I've had the Smith kid up to here, too. They should all be locked up."

"Can you pass on the Smith kid, just this once?" Alexis asked. "How about locking up whoever it was that shot him?"

"Anything you want, Ms. Davis," Taggart said as she walked off down the hall.


	22. Chapter 22

**Part 22**

"There's been some time, too," Alexis was telling V. and Hannah as they all leaned over Hannah's shoulder and the computer records again, "Maybe they've mellowed out. Think of what their son running from them and their not being able to find him could have done to them. Taught them a good lesson."

V. said, "How bad is the medical issue? Could we take a little time to observe them from afar?"

"A good idea," Alexis answered. "Though I think it would still be hard to persuade Zander they are mellowed out, even if we thought so. Still. Get for him a history of their past few years, without alerting them; he may see things differently."

"Fortunately," said Hannah, "law enforcement agencies are required to put children who are subjects of parental abduction in the same database we've been looking at."

"The case might not still be open," Alexis pointed out. "That case could be considered solved. And I have a bad feeling these are people who take the law into their own hands."

"And if that were so, there could be no custody order," V. said. "If they never got a custody order, even the one who took the child out of the country wouldn't have been considered a fugitive."

"Let me run over to the law library," Alexis said. "No wait. I'm sure it's got to be a federal crime without even looking. Taking the child out of the country without a US passport. They got him the foreign passport, and took him out. From what Cheryl told me, it almost certainly came up. Trouble is, the defendant would have been the parent, and we don't have any idea who to look for."

"Maybe it's uncommon enough to start with the list of people who've been charged with it," V. said.

"About 500 cases in a year of internationally abducted children," Hannah said, "that makes about 40 from Florida. There are about 1200 open cases now. So," she waited for the computer to bring up the records. "Eighty from Florida."

"Try Daytona," Alexis said.

"I can do Volusia County," Hannah said. They waited. "None open."

"Try closed. Especially two to six years ago."

Hannah typed again. "OK. Here we go. Four cases total. Two girls. Two boys. Same last name for the two boys."

"Peter Ka, kansch, Kashineb, Kansheb, what?"

"Kanishchev," Alexis read, "Peter, and Alexander. Bring up Alexander, Hannah!"

"These things take forever," V. commented.

The computer worked. "Finally!" V. said. 

"Eureka!" Alexis was like a kid who had found a hidden birthday present. "My boy! And the perpetrator!"

They were looking at a missing child poster. "Sergei," V. said. "parental abduction and voila! Unlawful flight to avoid prosecution and taking a US citizen child from the US in violation of a custody order!"

Alexis practically jumped up and down. "And without a US passport! This is the guilty party!" V. gave her a pat on the back, saying, "There was never any doubt we could outsmart Zander Smith!"

"Older guy," Hannah observed. "Practically old enough to be Zander's grandfather. Now we can find out all kinds of stuff," Hannah went on. "What do you want? Whatever it is, it's all yours! FBI, Interpol, IRS or Immigration and Naturalization? Federal prisoner number 23-4388-78."

"Gee, maybe you can even get a health profile without his knowing!" V. said. "Which prison?"

"Got out last year, did two years for, of course - international child abduction and taking US citizen children from the US without a US passport. Moved him around like they always do. They don't want them to make connections with other white collar criminals, and they often treat this like white collar stuff, if there isn't violence involved."

"Maybe he's still on parole," V. said.

Hannah read for awhile. "Still on, and reporting officer in Daytona."

"Well, I'll be!" Alexis said. "Who turned him in to the feds? Maybe we will find the mother."

"Let me print out some of this stuff for you," Hannah said. "You've got birth dates here, and the spelling of the names, and some other names his father used to hide him."

"Can I look at the Peter record really quick?"

"Sure, want to make sure it's a brother?"

It was a picture for a missing child with the same perpetrator. "And still a minor," V. said. "But no open case that he is missing, at least, not from Volusia County."

"With Mom, is my guess. Dad has been in the federal pen, so Mom has custody without interference. And surely there's a restraining order against Dad getting into contact with him."

"Now with the name, let's go back to the missing. See if he was one of those 360."

"Yes!" V. said. "So she did report him missing! Read that, Alexis."

"Oksana Kanishcheva. West Palm Beach. So she's moved south, probably with the younger boy. I've got to get a tail on her. See how civilized she is. But a mother's a mother. She must be worried sick."


	23. Chapter 23

**Part 23**

Dr. Jones said Zander Smith could try to walk. Quinn supervised the orderlies. Making a couple of faces, he was able to start on the walker. He got across the lounge. "Sit down," Quinn said. "If you can't, the orderlies will help you."

He tried. He was able to, with a grimace. "I don't think I can get up again, though," he said.

"Rest a bit, then try. Your legs were uninjured, so they should be no weaker than not getting to use them would make them."

"I never thought of walking as a major sport before."

Quinn laughed. She wrote in the chart for awhile.

"That EKG didn't show anything sinister," she told him. "That walk didn't create any heart fluttering?"

"None."

"Good. Maybe the family genes are good, after all. Hey I have an idea. Give me an ethnic group. You know, like general family background. Maybe that makes it more or less likely; sometimes genetic conditions are more likely in this or that ethnic group. I've got another patient that reminds me of you a little. It's his hair. He's Korean. You wouldn't be half or quarter Asian, would you?"

"I'm Irish."

She rolled her eyes upward for a second, then went back to writing. 

When she looked up from the chart again, he was looking at her. "I saw something on TV yesterday. Something you may not like."

"That I may not like?"

"Yeah, it was about this history thing, with the theory that Johnson had Kennedy killed."

Quinn laughed again, harder this time. "Why wouldn't I like it?"

"Didn't you say you hoped there was no conspiracy?"

"No! When?"

"I remember you said I was staring at the ceiling, and you hoped it had the answer, and that there was no conspiracy."

"Did I? I probably just meant, you were staring as if there were an answer up there."

"Oh, OK. Sorry."

"Oh, you don't have to be sorry. I like the conspiracy theories, but I guess I must just like to debate the mystery, because I know it can never be proven."

"But you know where Aunt Maggie stood."

"You have the best memory. How do you remember all the dumb stuff I told you? I better be careful what I say around you!"

"What do you think now?"

"About what?"

"Who killed him? Kennedy."

"Well, let me see. I think, these days, I think it was a mob hit. And you? Did they sell you on Johnson?"

"No, I think it was the Russians."

"Likely culprits, too. Well, let's see if you can get up now."


	24. Chapter 24

**Part 24**

Alexis sat down by the side of Zander's bed and took his hand. "I figured it out, Zander," she said. "I can find your family."

"Leave them alone," was all he said. He looked up at the ceiling. Quinn came to the door. Alexis looked up.

"I can come back," Quinn said, sensing the conversation was important.

"Never mind," Zander said, wearily.

Quinn stood still a minute. "I think that means come in," Alexis said. "I think you can hear this, anyway. Is that all right with you?" she asked him.

"Sure."

"All I had to do was a little investigating. One old girlfriend, the FBI's databases, and all the doors opened."

"Emily knows nothing."

"An older girlfriend. Cheryl. Don't tell me you don't remember her. A girl whose parents fought over her visiting her father?"

"Oh," he said, weakly.

"I won't do anything you don't want me to do," Alexis said. "But think it over. You're over 18. Twenty, in fact. Your parents don't get to say where you go or what you do."

"Yeah, but that isn't going to stop them from trying."

"You've got me. I'm as old as your mother. I'm just as sneaky, or how could I have found this out?"

He tried to smile. "You're not as sneaky. Not even close."

"Well, between the two of us, we can do this. We can handle her. First things first. Sign these papers for me. As her direct descendent, I believe you can get their immigration records. Those could have information about your grandparents."

"It's a lot of trouble for you to go to for something I never even felt bad over. You already did so much for me. No one would ever know about it at all, if this hadn't happened."

"It's a good thing it's been caught."

"That's true," Quinn put in. "Blood pressure is up a little, again," she said, taking the cuff off.

"Who are these people, Bonnie and Clyde?" Alexis tried to get him to laugh.

He smiled a little bit. "Close." 

"They raised you, so how bad can they be? You aren't all bad."

"Thank you, but if I'm not all bad, it isn't their doing."

"It's not?"

"They were around. But Rosa was there all the time."

"Oh, a nanny?"

"More or less."

"She'd know something about your health then, wouldn't she?"

"I don't know where she is anymore."

"Her last name?"

"Sanchez."

"Was she from there, Daytona?"

"No, from Miami or somewhere. And she had family in Texas. She could be anywhere."

"Did you know your father was in jail for custody interference?"

"Yes. That was my fault."

"No, Zander, it's his fault. But never mind that, now. Don't you think your mother's worried? Rosa, too? And your brother? And your father, too?"

"My brother knows I'm all right. I left him a note."

"How many years ago?" Alexis laughed a little. "He's got to be worried by now."

"He knows I'm all right."

"O.K. There's a restraining order against your father trying to see either of you. You're an adult, so you can have it lifted. As long as you don't, you're OK, there."

"A restraining order? That's just a piece of paper."

"A couple of years in the federal penitentiary, and the threat of going back if he doesn't obey it. That's not going to work, you think?"

"Not particularly."

Alexis reached over and hugged him. "You're going to be fine," she said. She left her papers, which he looked reluctant to sign, on the table. "Think it over." 

"I'm dying of curiosity," Quinn said, when she and Alexis had gone out. "You know why."

"Sure do. If you have a minute, let me get you a cup of coffee."

Quinn asked Joanna to cover her for a break. "No problem," Joanna said from the nurse's station.

Down in the break room, Alexis explained how Hannah had been able to pull out the records when they were able to narrow it down to a parental abduction case from the Daytona area - "that was a good clue, as it turns out," Alexis added - and look in the closed cases from a couple of years ago.

"I didn't want to laugh, because it appears so serious to him," Quinn said. "I guess I just can't imagine. How can one's mother be such a barracuda? Anybody's mother? It's not like she was so bad that the state put him in foster care."

"He ran away, so since then he can only justify it, the longer it's been," Alexis said. "I imagine too, it's tough being jerked around like that. The records showed different names – parents who don't have custody and take their children and know they don't have the right to, hide them with different names – it's all got to be traumatic. And add that the father took them out of the country, you've got something to adjust to there, even in a happy family all going together."

"It's just the tip of the iceberg," Quinn agreed. "What happened to the schooling? He'd have been uprooted from his friends in school, and sports, whatever it was he was used to. And did he get cut off from his mother - all that must have been a mess."

"I've read about those kinds of cases; and it is very hard to enforce your custody decree across international lines," Alexis said.

"Like that movie, about the American lady who married a middle eastern guy and went to his country, with the child. Later, when she wanted to leave him, the law of that country was just that he gets custody because he's the man, and she couldn't take her child with her. She had to sneak her out."

"Yeah," Alexis said, "though Zander's mother, she at least was originally from Russia herself, but it must have been different from when she left. In those years we are talking about, it must have been hard to get anything done. Everything changing. Probably disordered and disorganized. I would think still she could have gone to some sort of court and said here, I have custody from the area of last residence. I don't see that they would have denied her. Maybe that was where the passport problem came in."

"He's here, so it must have been solved. How or when though? Why does he think it's his fault, that his father went to jail?"

"I've heard kids blame themselves about those things sometimes. Maybe after sleeping on it he can see it in another light. The whole custody issue must be solved now. Even if father wants to mess with the younger brother, the kid is old enough to tell the old man there's no way he's going to Russia or anyplace else with him. The State Department doesn't just issue passports to minors now. Both parents have to consent. They can't stop the Russian government from giving him one, but the old man has the history. The most he can get is supervised visitation."

"Do you think Zander would contact them but for the brother? Like he thinks somehow he will bring down more grief on the brother?"

"Yes. Obviously not much faith in the law, either. At least, when it comes to this. But the father can't drag a 16 year old onto an airplane when the 16 year old doesn't want to go, and the kid himself must be trained by now not to fall for any tricks. If he goes, he wants to."

"Maybe that will sink in, with a little time. Imagine somebody telling the mother about this heart issue. You'd think she would just help, wouldn't you? I can see Zander having psychological blocks about it. But I can hardly believe she'd do anything but tell us what we need to know!"

"Exactly. My basic skip trace show she owns a lot of businesses; has a lot of property. She could have made out well in the divorce. But she appears to have some business acumen herself. Maybe some of it is of her own doing. She must have some sense."

"Aren't you tempted to just call her up?"

Alexis laughed. "I really would. I don't want to go around him, though. I guess I'll let Zander decide. It kills me, though! I've got to find out something more, even if I have to sneak around to do it!"

Quinn went back to work, and Alexis was on her way out. She stepped into the elevator, and Paul Whitman was already in it, going down.

"How's the mystery going?" he asked.

"I solved the mystery," Alexis said. "Now I'm stuck on what to do with the information. I've got names and locations and a young man intent still convinced that his forebears will rain destruction down upon him!"

"Maybe he's right," Paul said. "He knows them."

"Yeah. Quinn and I were discussing this just now. Smart girl. Very mature for her age."

"I think so."

"You're lucky."

"I know it! The guys remind me about that every day. You can count on Quinn. She's gentle. She'll get Smith to go along."


	25. Chapter 25

**Part 25**

Zander Smith was just staring – he couldn't read or do anything else – his mind was too burdened. He heard someone at the door, looked up and smiled. Joe Quinn came into the room, trailing him was a gangly youth in a baseball cap, wearing it backwards, with a T-shirt and cut-off shorts.

"I giving Tim Connor here a ride home from his medical check-up for football. I thought we wouldn't leave until he said hello to his sister, and while we're here, he and I may as well talk to you if you're up to it."

"Yes. Come in."

"Any improvement?"

"A little."

"Tim drives race cars too. Whenever he can. Don't you Tim?"

"Yeah," Tim said. He looked around the room, a little goofy. He wasn't one for a lot of speaking. He looked like he thought he was supposed to say something. "I like Formula One cars."

"I used to work on those," Zander said, looking distant.

"We should get you working on them again," Joe said.

"If I make it out of here."

"Feels like a long time."

"Yeah."

"You got shot?" Tim asked. "What'd that feel like?"

"It hurt," Zander said.

Quinn came in with a tray. "This is that awful pain medication," she said. "What are you two doing here, harassing my patients?"

"Yeah," Tim said.

"It's easier than your harassment," Zander said.

"Making jokes. That's a good sign."

Tim got up, sneaked up behind Quinn, who was looking down at the tray and arranging things. He suddenly grabbed her waist. She jumped, and knocked a box of tongue depressors onto the floor, shrieking for a second. She stood still, looked heavenward, trying to smile. "This is a hospital," she said to Tim in a mock lecturing tone. Zander smiled, and watched her start to pick up the tongue depressors, and Tim helping her but dropping again as many as he picked up.

"He's a little immature today," Joe said, "I'll get him out of here. Bye, now," he said to Zander. "Bye," Tim said politely. "Thanks for coming," Zander said as they left.

Quinn was still picking things up off of the floor. He watched this procedure. "You missed one," he said, pointing.

"Thank you," she said ruefully.

She looked at the chart like she always did, swinging back her braided hair, which had fallen forward while she picked the stuff up off the floor. Businesslike as usual, she listened to his chest.

"Nothing funny going on?" he asked.

"Not a thing. Maybe you can go for another walk later."

Later, he got across the lounge without the walker, and was feeling pretty good about it. Quinn wasn't in favor of it, not yet, but he felt like he could do it, and wanted to try. He stopped, and held onto the top of a chair, seeing Quinn across the lounge, getting another patient started to try walking with a walker. He was looking at them, and a sort of dizziness overcame him. He closed his eyes for a second, and felt more stable, but then everything went white.

He was back in bed, Dr. Jones and Dr. Monica Quartermaine were standing on either side, staring at him, or so it seemed. He didn't feel like he could talk. "Maybe just a relapse," Dr. Jones was saying, "trying too much too soon." Zander stared at the ceiling, wondering if he would ever get out of there.

Monica was listening to his chest now. Then she unceremoniously grabbed his hospital gown up and looked under the bandages and the healing wounds. "Looks all right for now," she said, "I do not want to have to open him up again without his blasted medical history." 

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," he heard Dr. Jones saying as they went out of the room.


	26. Chapter 26

**Part 26**

Alexis' phone rang. V., asking her to come down to the station. "We have opened Pandora's box," she said.

"Uh-oh," Alexis said, and jumped out and ran out.

She ran into the station; then made her way toward V.'s little office, seeing a woman sitting in one of the chairs at a desk talking to Hannah, and having little doubt of who the woman was.

She shut V.'s door and sat down. "How did she get here?"

"Those two get the prize for the worldwide mother and son look-a-like contest, no questions asked, don't they? The data we put in. Her private investigator must have been looking at anything new that came in and fit. I guess there weren't so many that they didn't check them all, and that led them to our mug shot, and so there she is."

"Yikes, I wasn't expecting that. What'd you tell her?"

"Nothing much yet. I figured you don't want her over at the hospital just yet; since Zander didn't want to see her. She just thinks he's been arrested. Wants to see him, though."

"That's a good sign. I hope. She came right up here."

"That's a good sign."

"Will she be reasonable? I can't figure out any way to bring up her medical history without revealing he's in the hospital."

"I know it. And I guess it's Dr. Quartermaine who should talk to her?"

"Right. Let's call her."

They put a call through to the hospital. While they waited, Alexis looked out the glass wall separating V's office from the central office. Well dressed, off course. Still wore her black hair very long. Alexis stared. "She just looks anxious, " she said to V. "I hope she's not going to upset Zander too much."

Monica came to the phone. Alexis explained quickly, explaining that she didn't want to bring Zander's mother to the hospital. "Can you come down here?" Alexis said, "we're at the station."

"Bring her over to the house," Monica said. "That's got to be less intimidating. Meet me there in a half hour?"

"Okay," Alexis said, putting the phone done. "Here goes nothing," she said.

Alexis and V. went out. "Here she is," Hannah said, "this is Alexis Davis, Zander's lawyer, she's been taking care of this latest trouble, too." 

"I'm glad you're here," Alexis said, "We need your help; in fact, you and your ex-husband are the only ones who really can."

"What do you need?" she said, "Where's my son?" She had a faint accent, that charming, slight lilt of those who learn a second language just young enough to grasp it completely, but just old enough never to be able to pronounce it like a native. 

"He's fine, I'll explain on the way. We've got to visit someone else first."

"I'll drive," V. volunteered. "So you won't have to think about that," she added, in an undertone to Alexis. 

"Weren't you ever happy?" Quinn asked him, listening to his chest yet again. Zander thought they were paranoid about it now, but said nothing. "I mean, before they got a divorce?"

"Yes, in a way. They were never home. But Pete and I were ok, Rosa and Pete and I. We had a plenty of friends, one thing, we could have them over whenever we wanted. He had race cars he owned at the track, I could work on them anytime, even got to drive some of them – the guys would let me, I guess they figured I was the owner's son and it was a great idea on that account, but I liked it."

"Your father had race cars?"

"Yes."

"You had a big house, I guess."

"Yeah, and right on the beach. Tennis courts, even. A dock, boats. I had this sailboat that was little, that was mine, I remember. A lot of times, there were a lot of people visiting, and they could be interesting. From all over the place. But always changing. Not the same person, like you have Joe. "

"Your parents were gone a lot."

"They were always on business trips. Going all over the world. They brought us stuff from wherever they went. He went more than she, and she wasn't going to the same places he was."

"And your grandparents, no relatives, ever came?"

"They couldn't, was how I understood it. Once I had a friend whose mother was from Holland, and he went there to see his mother's family, and they came to see him one summer. I asked why we couldn't do that, and they said they had to escape their country and nobody could just get out, and there was no way we would go there because we wouldn't be able to get back out."

"So that explains it. Kept me awake nights wondering!"

"If I'd have known that, I would have just told you."

"It's OK. Let's take your temperature. You never know, you can get fevers in a hospital. Normal though," she went on. "What happened then? Who did you live with. Did he leave?"

"No, she packed us up and we moved across town. Not very far away, even. But we changed schools. We didn't see him for the longest time. I was mad at him. I didn't understand. Then he pops up one day, cursing at her that he's been looking all over Russia for us. It turns out, what she did was, she got him thinking if she left him that is what she would do – take us back there to live with her family. He knew she would never do it, but she left him right after the Soviet Union fell, and so he thought with that timing, she thought it was safe to go and she went like she had threatened a hundred times. So he goes looking for her, then when he finally found us not that far away, he knew she had fooled him."

"Then did he try to get custody of you guys?"

"I think so. After that, it was a fight every other weekend. And Wednesday night. I still hate Wednesdays. We were supposed to go with him a few hours, and she always did something to fool him, and he was always over there late at night yelling at her, and the cops came again and again, and kept saying it was a civil dispute. I would be upstairs, I heard every cop on the Daytona Police force tell them it was a civil dispute. Over the next couple of years."

"I'm sorry. Did you see him on the weekends, though?"

"Yeah, we went back to our original house, and we saw him about as much as we usually had before, maybe a little more. Even if he wasn't going to be there, we went. We didn't really mind, but when she found out about that! Another fight, another trip to the judge. He also was supposed to bring us back on Sunday night, and he never did. He just brought us to school on Monday morning. But the first few times, it freaked her out. The cops would be at school, making sure we were there."

"Who did Rosa go with?"

"She just went with Pete and I."

"Your mother's house was big, too?"

"Kind of. Yeah, not quite as big."

"And then, when he took you over to Russia, how old were you?"

"About 13. Pete was about 9. He took us to Miami to get a passport, and I must not have been paying enough attention. He was going to take us to London for Christmas. We had all gone there before, and I must have had a passport for that, but I also paid no attention. Just dumb."

"How could you know?"

"I guess I couldn't, but I should have wondered why I was at the Russian consulate. Or noticed. So weird that I did not notice it was strange to have this Russian passport. I just did not get it. We didn't tell her, by then we knew better. She'd go to court and put a stop to it. It was just a trip. We get to London, a few days later, he says we're going to Moscow. By then I sort of understood and I wasn't scared to go there, and I even did think about my grandparents and thought I was going to get to see them, maybe."

"You thought it was just a visit, and it wasn't?"

"Exactly. He did the same to her. He went on and on about how there was no way he would let her take us there. He kept it up, too, saying he didn't trust them, and they'd go back to the old way, and she was never taking his kids there, and that they were a bunch of losers there, and on and on as he always did. Then when we get there, he has a flat for us to live in and he enrolls us in school. Then I knew - here we go again. So it took her forever to figure it out, too, because he had been so against it, that she looked all over North America for us first."

"I'm exhausted just thinking about it. So you still didn't get to see your grandparents?"

"He wasn't about to go near her parents, and they must have lived in some other city. I tried to find them, but just didn't have time or couldn't figure it out. And he said his were dead, which I'm not even sure I believe to this day. No brothers and sisters. She has some brothers, I believe. Neither of them ever wanted to talk about their family much. But there was one thing – he stayed home there. He wasn't gone all the time. He actually helped us with our homework, went to our games and matches and that kind of stuff."

"Which he had never done before?"

"No. Not once. Not ever. I bet you can't believe that."

"I can see they were different. My Dad didn't have to go on business trips. Mom was a teacher. They didn't need to go anywhere. Did your father have a job there?"

"It seemed like he just did whatever he wanted. The cost of living was so much cheaper, he probably didn't have to work when he had American dollars from before. But he also had experience they needed running businesses, so he probably had enough to keep him occupied right there, I guess."

"Well, I'll leave you alone before I tire you out with questions."

"It's ok. It's your nature. I'm still pretty sure your name is Question. Even Joe calls you Nurse Question."

"Don't be so mysterious, and you won't get as many questions!"

He laughed. "OK, from now on I tell you everything I know."


	27. Chapter 27

**Part 27**

Monica greeted Alexis and V. Ardanowski as they came into the living room, and shook hands with Zander's mother, staring a second, as, Alexis noticed, was going to be inevitable with anyone who already knew Zander.

She asked them to sit down, and drew out a pad of paper, saying: "Your son is in good stable condition after an injury, nothing to worry about there. While I did the surgery, I noticed premature ventricular contractions, which can be a sign of a heart condition that is usually genetic. When I asked him for the routine family history, I got a brick wall. Mainly he resisted telling me or told me he didn't know anything. I really need to know, for his own good, yours and his father's family history for heart problems, and especially if there were any sudden deaths of relatively young people. Then his own history, records from the pediatrician. And a couple of fainting episodes he seemed to remember. Can you tell me about all that, Mrs. – sorry, what is it?"

She waved a hand, "Call me Oksana. My son – he has no problems. I don't remember the doctor's name, but I can find it. They only went there for a paper for the school that they could play a sport. He was the healthiest of children. In school every day. He played every sport. There were years he was just with his father. I don't know for sure about those, but never heard that it was any different."

"He told me he fainted a couple of times when he was a little kid."

"He must remember wrong; oh, maybe, once, in a church. We went to a wedding, it was hot, he had on a suit and tie. I think nobody realized he ate nothing. We took him outside, his father said, 'get him something to eat' and he was playing as always later the same day."

"Didn't seek any medical attention for that?"

"Any what?"

"Take him to the doctor?"

"No. He got back to normal really quick."

"Do you have other children?"

"One other son, much the same. He is 16."

"He's also healthy, then?"

"Yes."

"If you can get the doctor's name, and clear up the years with his father, but most importantly, is there anyone in your family with any heart problems?"

"Oh, my, they are far away – all in Russia."

"Well, they exist, don't they? Do you have any contact with them at all?"

"Yes, I will call and ask."

"It's sudden deaths, especially when young. Heart conditions."

"Yes. Sudden death. Heart conditions."

"Here," Monica handed her the pad of paper. "Plot the family tree. That's the best way."

Oksana took the pad, slowly, and stared at it for a minute. "But what's this surgery for?"

"He's fine now. A gunshot wound. Maybe you need to find out what he had been up to these last few years. But if you really want to help him, you'll attend to that first."

"Gunshot?" Oksana looked bewildered.

"It's getting late," V. said to Oksana, who was again looking at the blank pad of paper. "You've been traveling, too, I imagine, you're tired. You could start on that first thing in the morning, and it'll be much easier."

"Good idea," Alexis said. "Come back to my place."

Oksana stood up, "No, I don't want to bother you; I'll go to the hotel."

"We'll give you a ride, though."

"I've got to go to this hospital and see him, where is it?"

"That's got to wait," Monica said. "That pad is more important, if you really want to help him, as I said, and visiting hours are over, and he most emphatically doesn't even want to see you."

"I know. But he will be all right when I have seen him."

"He knows I tracked you down," Alexis said, "but I didn't realize you could be here, so soon, and really, he's been so against it all along, I really need more time to prepare him. He doesn't know you're here to be against seeing you. He just didn't want me to track you down."

"But we need this history," Monica added. "And his father. We need the same information from him."

"I'll find him," Oksana said.

Monica took the pad back and wrote on it. "Here's my number," she said, writing. "Call me when you learn anything."

"I will. Thank you, Ms., Mrs. Doctor."

They turned to go, and Edward Quartermaine came in just at that moment. "Alexis! Detective Ardanowski, always good to see you - and – oh, a relative of that deviant Zander Smith."

"Smith, who?" she asked. "Does he mean my son?"

"Never mind," Monica said. "Ignore him."

Edward shook his forefinger at Oksana. "If you had done your job right, young lady, we wouldn't have had all that trouble with that Svengali last year. I won't have any of his parents in this house."

"It's my house Edward, and I'll ask you to put a sock in it," said his daughter-in-law, firmly if not respectfully.

"Let's go," Alexis said.

"Right," said V, taking the arm of the staring Oksana, and leading her out behind Alexis.


	28. Chapter 28

**Part 28**

Quinn took Zander down in the elevator to walk around the main lounge on the first floor, on condition he stick with the walker. After the relapse, he had bounced back. She thought he was doing pretty well, but thought he should stick to the level he was at for a day or two. 

He admitted to being tired. She told him to sit down. "I'll get a chair for you," she said.

"I could try to walk back after a little while, instead."

She thought for a moment. "Sure. I can always get a chair for you if you want."

"I'm not used to this."

"What's that?"

"Not being able to move without hurting."

"You're in good basic health, so you'll heal up in time. But it must be tough to be so stuck."

"It's tough, alright. And I can't do anything! While Alexis is out there shaking things up."

"I'm glad she is. She cares more about you than anybody from the point of view of this hospital, I think."

"You're so kind, worrying about things like that. I wouldn't have expected Alexis to do all that. I'm grateful to Alexis. She's buying trouble, though. I don't know what I would do without her. Dumb Emily writing me her crummy letter - I don't think I would care what happened to me. But I'm grateful to Alexis. If she has to take all the trouble, I hate to let her down, after all she's done. And I really hate the thought of my parents seeing her as somebody to use."

"It's been awhile. Maybe your mother changed some since you've seen her. Before she didn't know she would lose you over her behavior."

"Just like Alexis. You speculate about some other person as if they were like you."

"We'll see. You've got to deal with your mother one way or another anyway. Emily, Cheryl, anybody at all, it's always going to be shallow if they can't know anything. That's just how people are. You can't be a mystery guy and get any further with any girl than a certain point."

"I never thought of it that way. Anyway, she said she loved me and we were supposed to be together, you know, like she meant it. I'm always falling for words like that. I guess it was just words. Or I didn't listen to all of them. I remember her telling her boyfriend, the one she had before, how everything changes. Then I should have realized how everything could change again. Yeah, I think she meant it, but for that time when she said. You know."

"Maybe it can be saved. I think she'll send another letter regretting the first one. It's just a disagreement. You can work out a disagreement. Anyone who thinks a relationship is over because of a disagreement will never stay in one anyway. Her letter doesn't make sense. She's mad at you about locking her brother up when your boss wants you to. Leaving aside that it's a strange thing for the boss to ask, let's say first, why doesn't she respect that? Then to add to that, she's not on her brother's side of this custody dispute? I don't understand that part, but leaving that aside - She's on the side your boss is on, and therefore, on the same side you're said to be on. Leaving even all that aside, none of it has anything to do with the two of you. It's her brother and his ex, and the custody of his kid! I've had countless friends and they've had countless relationship problems they told me about. I've had dozens myself. But this is the most confusing thing I've ever heard."

"Joe said it would be funny, and it already is starting to be. Maybe it's 'I can be against my brother, but you can't.'"

"Yeah, but then, what are you supposed to do then? Just stay out of it, ok, but what about this boss?"

"She doesn't want me to work there, anyway. I need the money, to put her through school. That was the whole idea. Get away from her parents, and put her through school, and just be free of them. They talked her into one year, and she went for it. But you can bet it's not really that, with her brother. It is a cover for something else. Somebody in her family told her something else. She's done that before."

"Done what before?"

"Her grandfather said I attacked him. She said she'd help me prove I did not attack him. Then he says something to her and the next day, suddenly does a 180, and she believes him. She never wants to see me again. Then later her father and brother have some problem with grandfather, so they end up digging up his medical file and exposing he had no injury. He was even going to pay somebody to witness this so-called attack! Then she comes back, and claims she never believed it anyway. Which makes no sense, but she must have been embarrassed to have her grandfather fool her."

"What a grandfather!"

"Yeah, not having one at all isn't necessarily the worst thing, you see."

"Yours raised your parents, so maybe they are like that. The culture was different, though."

"Maybe. They could be like that because of what they had to do. Or thought they did. They separated themselves, voluntarily, from their whole family, and their whole life. For all they knew, when they did it, they would never see their parents again."

"Maybe that's why they didn't see the upheaval for you by moving you from one place to another."

"I guess. Through their eyes, it might not have been much, I guess."

"Still, it was tough on you. Maybe they should have tried to see it from your point of view."

"They had to become citizens, and I remember when they got their citizenship; they had a big party. He even said we were born here and didn't appreciate it. They thought it was so cool when they had their US passports; they took us on a trip to Italy, just so they could use them! Then, later, at least as I thought then, he had caused Pete and I to lose our nationality!"

"How?"

"Well, she found us finally, and stopped us leaving school. We naturally knew not to tell him. She'd meet us places. It was fun, sort of, you know cloak and dagger stuff. You'd have liked it. She wanted us to come back with her. I told her I had to stay one more year to finish school. I only had one more year and was not about to try to switch to such a different system at that point. She said ok, just come for the summer and you can come back and finish school. That would have worked fine. I knew people who had started college in the US after they graduated from that system."

"So you went?"

"First we had to get a US passport. I looked all around, and realized then I only had this Russian one. The guy in the U.S. State Department, which we sneaked off to see one day, her and me, said I needed a visa. She said, no, he was born in the US, give him a U.S. Passport. The guy said no way, I had no proof of anything, but that I was a Russian citizen. He told her that since she was a citizen, she could file for a green card for me and Pete, and that would take a year. "

Quinn laughed.

"That's what I did. Even she knew better. Said no way, he was born there, he can't need one of those just because he left. They guy said it was illegal for a citizen of the US to leave the US without a US passport, and he suspected she and I were trying to get around the law and not wait my turn for a green card like everybody else."

"Oh, boy."

"She told the guy what our father had done with us, and showed him her custody order, and blamed it on my father. She said, 'they're kids, how can they be guilty of that kind of a crime?' Anyway, this bureaucrat said she would have to prove we were born here. She went all the way back to Florida, got our birth certificates, came all the way back to Moscow, and gave it to the guy, and he said it wasn't stamped by proper authority in Tallahassee. She went back again, got a stamp from Tallahassee, and brought other stuff he told her she had to have. Since we had no photo ID other than the damned Russian passports, she had to get our school records and our class picture and notarized and certified affidavits sworn on pain of death from our teachers. She even found the doctor who delivered us, finally, so he could swear and certify and notarize that he delivered us in a hospital on US soil!"

"Couldn't this guy see you acted and spoke like an American?"

"The pieces of paper were more important to him than anything. Documentation. My case was not properly documented, he kept saying. So naive. Probably there were 20 Russians a day who couldn't speak good English going right by him with faked 'documentation.'"

"That must have been frustrating."

"I know it's funny now. But you can't think how mad you would get to have some bureaucrat telling you that you are an alien and you need a visa to get into the United States. And after all that trouble, it turns out it was the dumbest thing I ever did."

"Why?"

"I felt guilty because I had not seen her and I preferred it that way - the thing with what he did was, though we never saw her, we also never had to fight about it - no judges, no cops - I felt worse for Peter, but I was getting old enough - I thought; I'll be 18, and then he can't stop me from just going to live with her to make up for it. And I should have waited until then, too, instead of letting her convince me to go with her for the summer."

"Well, you'd have had the passport problem anyway."

"True. That was when I realized, or so I had thought, that he had stuck me in Russia for life. It was maddening. He had gone there on his US passport. Therefore, think of it, he had one! And so did she! I had to get a student visa, just like kids in my class there who had never been to the US in their lives. I had no advantage at all from having been born here and lived here 13 years. You can't imagine how infuriating it was. Those two were citizens and Pete and I were not!"

"I'm sorry," Quinn said, "I know I shouldn't be laughing. It is funny now, isn't it?"

"Sort of." He smiled a little, as if trying to maintain his fury and not being able to.

"I'm infuriated," Quinn said, soothingly. "Just thinking of them keeping two fine young Americans from coming back to the U.S., while those two could come back at any time!"

Zander laughed.

"But couldn't she go live there?" Quinn asked.

"We never even discussed that. I would have just thought that they would fight, anyway - they'd be in the same place again. I knew there were no KGB any more, but the idea of their police has always really freaked me out - growing up I only heard about how awful they were. No way did I want to be in school and have the cops show up. I just didn't understand the system. Now, I don't think they would have any cops to spare for stuff like that. You could go to the police station if you lost something on the other hand. They were the lost and found. Strange. I mean imagine going there if you lost your umbrella, but being scared to death if they approached you."

"This is what comes of taking on too much yourself too soon. Getting in over your head. But your parents seem to put you in that position."

"They just messed me all up. I don't know how to get into college. Some kid from a foreign country can just come. But when I finally got here, I realized she had no intent of sending me back. And her custody order - how could I get around that? It was ok for Pete, because he could just pick up again, but I had two more years if I stayed here, plus it was all mixed up. They were talking about putting me back as a sophomore - 3 more years."

"No way!"

"Yes. And if I had him send me the money to go back, I was still a minor. They wouldn't let me on the plane. I called him up and asked him to send me the Russian passport, which of course I stupidly left behind. By then I was at least smart enough to dial an international call. I knew they would let an alien go, no matter how old they were!" 

"So did that work?"

"It could have. But, instead, like a total idiot, he comes over here to get us! Well, the federal marshals met him at the airport."

"How come?"

"He was charged with interfering with custody. She had custody, he had weekends, see, so by taking us over there he violated the orders of the courts. I never saw that. But it was all set up before she even found us."

"Oh, no! So there went your chance to graduate after the one year."

"Exactly. And he was sentenced to go to prison! She was going to take us to prison to see him every week - well, that didn't last long. Then they moved him to some prison further away. But he would be getting out just in time to take Pete somewhere else and they'd wreck up Pete's education, too. I didn't think too well, I admit, at the time it seemed like the only thing to do. Get away from them, get a job, because I was going to put myself through college - if it was them, I'd be in 10 colleges before I could graduate. Then I could help Pete get through whatever he had left."

"You take too much on."

"Why?"

"You're 20 years of age, have a sort of 11th grade education, you're going to support your little brother and send him to college while working in a place where you're liable to get shot."

Quinn started to giggle at the picture she was painting. "I can picture a nice little house," she added. "Your brother going off to school everyday."

Zander started giggling a little, too. His eyes stared off, as if he were imagining a similar picture.

"And don't forget," Quinn giggled harder, trying to talk at the same time, "your girlfriend Emily is there, too. You're supporting her and sending her to college also. Both sets of rich parents don't have to spend a dime."

Zander giggled harder too, and started holding onto his stomach.

"Watch it," Quinn said.

"It's ok," he said. "I can see them going off to school, with their backpacks, down the street, together."

They were both laughing, but she started to worry about his stitches. "It was kind of dumb of me, I guess," he said.

"Good intentions count. But you don't have to be the one to take on the whole world. Let me wheel you back."

"No, no. I can walk."


	29. Chapter 29

**Part 29**

"We have to find out who did this, buddy," V. was saying, sitting in the chair by Zander's bed. "To bring them to justice. They're a danger to the community, whoever they are."

"I just didn't see anybody. Nothing. It was dark. I went out. I heard shots and felt them hitting me."

"Do you recall locking AJ in the storeroom?"

"Not really. I was in there, and he was in there, and Sonny was talking to him and he was yelling at Sonny, all about the same old stuff. It must have been 20 minutes later, and I was back at my desk, and Sonny said lock the storeroom and go home. There is nothing unusual about that. It gets locked; to keep people out. I didn't even know you locked it from the outside – never figured there was anyone in there to get locked in. By that time of night, there's nobody left, who works in the warehouse, usually. I didn't even think about AJ. I just figured he was gone from there too, I guess."

"So how long from when you locked the door to when you stepped outside?"

"Five minutes, maybe. Less."

"Was there anyone else there in say, about the one hour before you were shot?"

"No, a few of the employees, maybe. I can think of their names."

"OK. And if you think of anything else, call me or just write it down, all right? We will get to the bottom of this."

"Thank you."

V. patted Zander's arm, then went out. She saw Quinn in the hallway, and stopped to chat with her.

"Did you know Mama showed up?"

Quinn's eyes went wide, showing she did not.

V. explained what had happened. "We're trying to keep her away," V. said. "So far, she's been a good girl. We took her to Dr. Quartermaine's house, and they talked about it, and then Alexis and I took her to the Port Charles Hotel and now she's supposed to be writing down the family medical history."

"That's what Dr. Quartermaine needs, so that's wonderful, really. Does she want to see him, though? She must!"

"She does. Alexis got her to understand she should wait, and that they need the family history most. So far she's ok. Doesn't seem too crazy."

"I hope not. He really can't just live like this forever."

"I agree. Maybe it'll all work out. He doesn't have to live with her anymore, but at least be in touch! What a family! My father died last year, and my mother and I miss him so much. Then you see other people like this and you just feel so bad."

"I know; I can't imagine not speaking to your parents at all. But it's different. This situation got crazy. Just out of hand."

"He's still a basically good kid. I can't explain. In spite of his criminal record. Not typical."

"That's the thing. Nothing is typical about him. None of his experience is, either."

"Yeah, I can't judge him real harshly. Mother either."

"I'll try to be on the look-out for her and tell the other nurses to be careful not to just let her in – she says she's his mother and they'd easily let her in. What does she look like?"

V. laughed. "She's a woman, about forty, that looks like Zander. Trust me, you'll have no problem recognizing her."


	30. Chapter 30

Alexis knocked on the door of room 1010 at the Port Charles Hotel. "Oksana," she yelled. "It's me, Alexis."

Oksana opened the door and let Alexis in. "I could not sleep all night," she said. "I called over there. It was a good time for it, anyway."

Alexis saw the pad of paper at the desk. A lot of Russian letters, which Alexis knew enough about to make out that they were names of people.

"You've done a lot here," Alexis said.

"I have to just go there, to look up the records," Oksana said. "What my mother remembers probably isn't good for cause of death. Most of them seem to be explained some other way, nobody died all of a sudden, but some I don't think she really knows what happened with most of them."

"Your mother? Have you been in touch with her?"

"Yes, I got to have this reunion with my family, that I never expected I would be able to do, but finally we got to go. I took Peter, too. I tell them Aleksander's in college. How do you explain you've lost your kid? Anyway, now they ask a lot of questions about him. It takes me awhile to calm my mother down to tell me about these relatives. She's never seen Sander and she's in a panic."

"Do you have a picture of Peter?" Alexis asked, curious, suddenly.

Oksana pulled a picture out of her wallet and gave it to Alexis.

"Cute," Alexis said, looking at the photo. Peter had lighter hair, and a thinner face, dark eyes, and a big, mischievous smile. "You could see them and tell they were brothers right off."

"I'm afraid to tell him I've found Aleksander until I've seen him. I saw your police department photo. I don't feel right telling Peter until I've really seen it's him, though."

"What did you think when he was gone?"

"He left this note to Peter, so we knew he wasn't dragged off and murdered, or anything like that. But it was still so dangerous, what he was doing, and the police could not trace him. I hired detectives and they've worked on this almost four years now. A couple of times they almost found him. He was too clever, and got ahead of them."

"You hadn't given up on finding him, though."

"No, I wouldn't, but the longer it was, the more I thought something bad could have happen to him. He could come back anytime he wanted, so I thought it must be he couldn't."

"It'll be awhile before I can get him to be willing to see you, I think. I'd really rather he was willing first."

"Please, he can just be asleep. I just get a look. Then I'll go to Russia to research these relatives' deaths."

Alexis called the nurse's desk.

Quinn was nervous; she already knew that Zander's mother didn't always do what she said she was going to do. If she woke him up, they'd all be taken in.

Still, she'd gotten him to take some pain medication. The walking had tired him out enough that with the pain medication, he was bound to fall asleep. Alexis called her and asked her to call her back if he was asleep, explaining her errand. She said that she and Oksana were in the first floor lounge and would stay there until Quinn called.

So her stomach felt a little funny when she called Alexis and said it was all right. She wrote a big note for the chart for the other nurses to warn them not to let Oksana in at any time the patient was awake, even though she was his mother.

The elevator opened – Alexis gave her a wry look as they came in. Quinn led them over to the room. Oksana stopped at the door, looked a minute. Quinn passed in, in front of her, wanting to check to make sure he was really still asleep.

"OK," she said. She and Alexis exchanged glances, and Oksana went over to the side of the bed. Almost instinctively, she reached out and pushed his hair back from his forehead. Quinn felt a moment of panic, but it was not necessary. Oksana didn't try to wake him up. She stared another second, then turned. Her mouth twisted up, and her eyes filled up with tears. Quinn felt a lump in her throat. "Thanks," Oksana mumbled, and left the room, and continued walking quickly out to the elevator.

Quinn and Alexis exchanged glances again, both looking relieved. Alexis went out running, "let me take you to the airport." Oksana still looked down at the floor, her hair hiding her face. When the elevator door opened, Alexis put an arm around her shoulders and walked in with her. She looked at Quinn again as the elevator closed. "I'll be back," she said.


	31. Chapter 31

"I need a drink," Alexis said. "Are you off soon?

"Right now," Quinn said.

"Perfect. Let's go!"

They went to the Outback. Jerry Jax, the owner, greeted Alexis like a VIP. "Always flirting," Alexis said aside to Quinn as he fussed with the perfect table.

"That was close this morning," Quinn said. "I really thought for a minute there that "Mrs. Smith" was going to wake Zander up."

"I know, and I don't know how much to tell himself just at this point," Alexis mused. "I'm glad I have a little while to think about this. I hope his heart isn't really bad. Mine is just as bad after today, anyway."

Quinn smiled. "There's more. He has an easier time talking about it now that you've blown his cover, and from what he says, she could have done anything! I hope we're not being lured into complacency. I don't guess it would kill him if she walked in, and he may even expect it. But a patient getting upset goes against my training – what I'm supposed to do for them."

"Yeah, something's going to happen, so I don't have long. She gave me this to give to him. Maybe it will help."

Alexis showed Quinn the photo of Peter.

"Awww," said Quinn, "he's so cute! Reminds me of Tim. My brother, about that age," she explained, returning it.

"It's not a really bad idea. He's got nothing against the little brother."

"He loves the little brother."

"So it might soften him up. That and her going all the way over to Russia to dig around old records. Wonder how long it'll take her?"

"Probably two minutes," said Quinn. They both laughed.

"And the father," Alexis said. "Now I'm worried about him. She found us, so maybe he can."

"From the way Zander talks about them, I think he'll be here in about 5 minutes," Quinn said. "I'm glad they care, but then it's the way or the reason they have in the past that causes him problems. That they care about one-upping each other. I wonder if they've gotten over that."

"They could've," Alexis said. "I've handled divorces and custody cases here and there. Time does its work. Now the two boys are older. Peter is still a minor, but 16 is a cut off for some things. The father's never going to get custody now, and doesn't have a whole lot to gain trying to mess with a 16 year old. He's going to have his say. They can't do anything with Zander legally. Granted they could still try to compete and use emotional appeals, but chances are, after four years, even they are tired of it."

"Zander thinks they'll just take it up again."

"He's stuck in a hospital with an injury. He'll feel more optimistic when he feels better. You know, I remember reading something years ago, on the effect of parents fighting custody battles, on the children. It might help Zander to look at something like that."

"Oh, yeah. Maybe Paul's got something like that, too."

"There are these theories about different ages. If you're 2 when your parents get divorced, it is different than if you're older, for example."

"I think, from what I can remember of what he told me, Zander would have been around 11."

"OK. That's a bad age for it. Something about how you get angry. You've got unresolved anger as it is. The parents fighting makes it worse. I would love to take both Oksana and Zander to a counselor. But it would be hard. Totally headstrong people, convinced they can and ought to handle it all themselves."

"You mean they're alike?" Quinn's eyes lit up with a broad smile.

"Yeah! Really amazing. They should move in with me. I have this knack for calming Zander down, and you know, come to think of it, though it's more subtle, the same thing worked on Oksana!"

"What is it? Every nurse in ICU needs to know!"

"Well, let me think. It's like, they listen to you. You know how it can be hard to just oppose somebody? Contradict them right then and there? Because they'll get defensive, and you end up in an unpleasant argument. Not so with them. All you really have to do is grab his attention. When he's looking at you, he is listening. He'll change course. I remember this silly incident where we were at the elevator in the hospital, waiting, and he was upset at Edward Quartermaine or Emily, or somebody, and kept pushing the button to summon it over and over. I just said that wasn't doing any good. He quit pushing it."

They were both laughing.

"Works like a charm," Alexis said.

"So how did it work on Oksana?"

"She would have come right over to the hospital. Even knowing he didn't want to see her, as Monica put it – that didn't impress her much. All I said was, let me warn him first; he doesn't know you're here. She backed off and went along with our sensible plan. It was just like dealing with Zander, the more I think of it."


	32. Chapter 32

A few nights later, Quinn and Paul left the racetrack. They'd had a lot of fun there. Paul wanted her to come over to his place.

"Come to my place," she said.

"Naw, mine's better. I've got a whole house with everything. You've got your little apartment. Neighbors close by and all that."

"Well, is that why you never want to come over? I'm glad it's not me."

"Don't be silly! It's for you to get spoiled and want to live in that house."

"You don't want me to take you for your house, do you?"

"Oh, no. But it doesn't hurt!"

When they got there, Paul went into the kitchen to make some margaritas. "See how good I am to you?" he asked.

"Joanna says that after the wedding, all that kind of thing just crashes."

Paul laughed. "Wise Joanna! Hey, turn on the Sports Channel, Quinn. See what happened with the Southern 500."

Quinn turned on the TV and read the screen. "Burton won. Second, Gordon, then Labonte," she yelled.

Her eyes went around the room and rested on the bookcase. She went over to look.

Freud, of course. William James. Psychiatric Journal. The Journal of Marriage and the Family. That was better. Several issues bound together in one book. She skimmed a list of articles in the first two, in the third, she found: "Children and Marital Conflict." She turned to the page it was on and skimmed it.

"Boys aged 6 to 12 seem to have the hardest time."

That was promising. She kept reading. "They may become aggressive and rebel against the mother. They have problems socializing, and they have academic problems. Since custody most often goes to the mother, more than half of the fathers do not see much of their children. This is not a good age for boys to lose their role models. The father may socialize with the children, but he is not there to teach or discipline the children."

"No wonder!" she thought.

She read on. Things got better after two or three years, depending on how well the child was getting along with the custodial parent and how well that parent was dealing with the divorce. There were some statistics about how many still have problems 5 years later and even 10.

"Can I borrow this?" she asked Paul as he came in with the margaritas.

"Sure, what for?"

"My problem patient. It might help."

"You're thinking of work now! Boy, I must be losing my touch!"

"Don't you ever get caught up in their problems every once in awhile?"

"Sure. Let's see." He took the book from her. "So Smith's parents had a custody battle?"

"Yes. Now, he's over the age of majority. Could it help his perspective? This stuff is knowledge. If he gets that its not just him, and all that, couldn't it help?"

"You're working on bullet wounds, not the rest," Paul said.

"I was working on medical history, that led to this," she countered.

"OK. I can think of some other stuff that might be less academic, too, than this."

"Thanks. I can go for that. I think he can handle this, too. I'm reading it OK."

"OK. Deal, as long as you drop work for the rest of the evening."

She smiled and put her arms around his neck. "Deal."


	33. Chapter 33

Quinn had a couple of days off - she found Alexis' office address in the phone book and went to ask her to go to the bookstore with her. 

"Nice office," she said, as they walked out. 

"Thanks," said Alexis. "Now Zander can work for me here - he may as well. No reason to hide now."

"I don't know if you can pay enough, especially if Uncle Sam gets a cut," Quinn said, "he thinks he's going to support little Emily and put her through college. Oh, and his little brother, too."

"How good of him," Alexis said. "It is sometimes endearing how he must get in over his head, but then it gets tiring to the mopper-uppers later, you think?"

Quinn laughed.

They looked over the shelves together and consulted here and there. "Strategies for Effective Co-parenting After Divorce," Alexis read, taking a book down. "I can eliminate two people as the authors of this one. Sergei Kanishchev didn't write this. And neither did Oksana Kanishcheva."

"Those two," Quinn mused, looking up from a book she was looking at, "are the authors of "How to Impair your Children by Fighting With Your Ex."

In the end, they decided on "Understanding the Effects of Divorce on Children" and "Family Breakdown."

"He's stuck in a hospital bed," Alexis said. "What else does he have to do?"

Zander sighed and looked at Alexis, as if to say "I told you so."

"She gave me this to give to you," Alexis said. "She asked me to give it to you. I promise she is thousands of miles away at this minute. I took her to the airport."

He turned his head and extended his hands, palm outwards, towards her.

Quinn giggled. "That's just what my little brother Bradley does when he doesn't want to hear something."

"You might like it for itself," Alexis said, grinning, "even if you think she's trying to get to you with it. Pretend I brought it. I really want you to have it."

She put the photo into one of his outstretched hands. He took it, not without giving her an injured look, but took and it looked down at it. Slowly, he smiled. His face lit up and he looked a couple of years younger, all in that instant.

He looked at the books and the Journal of Marriage and the Family. "You're doing too much for me," he said.

"Read that stuff and you'll do much for yourself," Alexis said. "Oh you got some flowers from somebody. Who was it? Can I look?"

He nodded.

"Cheryl Shue. How sweet."

Quinn just felt bad that of the time he'd been here, those were the first flowers he got.

Later, going around to check the patients, Quinn found he was asleep when she got to his room.

She looked at the little table next to the bed - the hospital materials, the one set of flowers, the photo of Peter, the books and "dumb Emily's crummy letter." His life for the last few weeks - but how changed it was, she thought - out of his control, which he had previously had - or thought he did.


	34. Chapter 34

A few days later, Quinn came onto the swing shift. Terri Hayes was going over the charts with her.

They discussed Nicole McNabb, who'd been in a factory accident, Elizabeth Webber, who'd been in an auto accident, and Lois Huffington, who'd had heart surgery. Quinn was happy to hear Terri tell her she'd seen Zander reading the books she and Alexis had given him. "He was even talking to Joanna Shields about it," Terri said.

People walked in and out, and Quinn tried keeping track of them in her peripheral vision. A couple of teenagers walked by; she thought they might be Mrs. Huffington's daughter and her boyfriend.

She said good-bye to Terri and wished her a good evening. She went to the end of the hall to go round to each patient.

Lois Huffington didn't have any visitors. Quinn thought that was odd, but went on to take Lois' vital signs.

Out in the hall, she heard some noise from Zander's room. "Oh, no, what now?" she thought.

It was the teenagers, a girl, standing back, and a boy, just standing by the side of the bed. She realized who it was.

"Mom told me to stay put," he was telling Zander. "But no way! This is Marianna," he said. "We came straight here without stopping, she'll tell you!" He sat down and hugged Zander. Zander caught sight of Quinn, and looked at her almost blankly, as if he had not quite absorbed what had happened, while Peter said, "Don't ever do this again, Sander! You'll never get away again anyway," he continued, sitting back, re-arranging his brother's hospital gown absent-mindedly. "Mom will have enough spies on you, you can't move without her knowing again. You're worse off than anybody in the old Soviet Union ever was - spies everywhere! I swear I looked and looked for you! I looked in Miami and all over West Palm."

"We put pictures on the telephone poles over half of Miami," Marianna said, supportively. "We had six kids at once working on it. And your old nanny, who lived in Miami," she added.

"Yeah, Rosa and her nieces helped - and then we'd have a party," Peter went on. "Man! We'd have these parties that were supposed to prove you were still alive, somehow. I don't know how! Didn't we, Marianna!"

"Yep, we did," Marianna said.

Zander was still speechless, and looked at Quinn again. She smiled. "Peter, how did you know to come to this town?" she asked, as if taking over for Zander and asking whatever question it would be natural for Zander to ask if he could still think.

"Mom called, and she told me she found him," he answered, turning back to Zander. "Finally! It was like, cool, I was getting so I never thought I'd hear that! Every month these detectives came with their report, and they were like never any closer. Mom said stay put for now, she's gone to Yekaterinaburg to research the family. Why she picks now to do that? Anyway. Who knows why she does stuff? Anyway, she said stay put, she just wanted me to know and said wait for her to come back. Well, what is she doing there, I would like to know? I guess she's telling grandma and grandpa, you missed that, Sandy, we went there to see them, Babooshka and Deadushka, you know? Really old little man and lady. Very sweet. Mom wanted to bring them both back here to stay with us but the consul said Mom had to apply for a green card first and that would take a year."

Zander almost started to laugh, exchanging a glance with Quinn again. Quinn was grinning.

"So that's where they're from?" Zander asked.

"Now you know you have grandparents," Quinn said. "I just need to take his blood pressure, go on," she said, nudging Peter aside.

"Oh, you got a real cute nurse to take care of you, right here. Look here, Sandy, meet Q. Connor! Anyway, Mom wouldn't tell me where she found you, so I called the airport and told them she forgot to tell me where she'd gone, and they told me, so I got my car and talked Marianna into helping me drive all this way. It's thousands of miles from West Palm Beach!"

"West Palm Beach?"

"Yeah, Mom and me moved there a couple of years ago. I swore you'd be down there, or in Miami. Never dreamed you'd go someplace that gets cold, like this. You really fooled me! You may have as well gone back to Mosk-VAH, if you didn't want to be warm. Dad's out of jail. Whether I see him is up to me, they say. What should we do, Sander, see him or forget it for awhile?"

"Let's not make this decision, now" said Quinn, folding up the blood pressure cuffs.

"OK, you're right, Q.," Peter said. "But what happened to you, Sander? Are you sick? That never happens! You haven't changed a whole lot!"

"You have," Zander said.

"Yeah, I'm not a little kid any more," Peter answered. "I'm not nearly as much of a pest. What is the diagnosis, Dr. Q?"

"Nurse Q. Gunshot wound, and it's getting better, but I think it may get a lot better now. Don't you think so?" she asked Zander.

"Gunshot wound! Who shot you?"

"I don't know," Zander said.

"Well, let's find out, so I can go and kick their butts," Peter said.

"Uh, no," Zander said, smiling.

"Oh wait! Rosa!" Peter tapped the side of his head with the palm of his hand. "I forgot. And I've promised her for years I'd call her the very instant!" He pulled out his cell phone.

"You have to go outside, first," Quinn said.

"Oops, sorry, Q." Peter said. "I better go now, or I'll forget. I'll be right back. Stay there, Sander. Don't move."

"Not a problem," Zander said to his retreating back. Marianna shrugged her shoulders, looking at Quinn and Zander, and followed Peter out.


	35. Chapter 35

Peter declared he had "Mom's credeetny cartochka" credit card, in Russian, Quinn supposed and they'd stay there at the big hotel in town. Zander, already taking over, Quinn realized, didn't think this was a good idea.

Quinn called Alexis, and by the end of the afternoon, Alexis came over to take Marianna and call her parents, so they would know where she really was and was safe. Joe Quinn came to take Peter to the Connors.

"You can't do all that," Zander protested.

"Sure we can," Quinn said. "An unusual situation calls for unusual measures. He'll be fine there. Tim has friends around all the time, nobody will even notice another teen-aged boy."

"Certainly not," Joe added. He had a book on Indy cars for Zander. "You've got a library starting here," he observed.

"Thank you," Zander said, watching Joe put this book on the pile, too tired to protest against anyone else giving him something.

"All worked out, now all you've got to do is keep working on healing up," Quinn observed.

Zander was walking the next day, down the hall, with no walker, slowly, when Joe came in again with Peter.

"I've never seen you like this, Sander," Peter said. "Here, give me your arm."

"That should be ok," Quinn said, seeing Zander look at her as if to ask if Peter should get involved this way. They made their way down the hall, slowly. Joe smiled at Quinn and they followed behind, together.

"Nice kid," Joe said. "He asked Kathleen to tell him what to do to help around the house. Said his mother always told him to ask that if he stayed over his friends' houses. With servants at his, he didn't know what to do."

"Mom must have taken advantage of that!"

"Sure. He got to clear the table this morning and put dishes in the dishwasher, which he did as though he were saving the entire nation from disorder."

"More of a hindrance than a help?"

Joe laughed. "At first, but he did end up getting the job done."

"I don't think he's supposed to be here," Quinn said. "But I'm glad he is."

Suddenly, Dr. Monica Quartermaine appeared in the hallway, her father-in-law at her heels. He was lecturing her about something. When he saw Zander, he stopped. "Well, Zander Smith, I declare," he said. "I see you've gotten into trouble again."

"Oh be quiet, Edward," Monica said, sharply.

Joe and Quinn stared at Edward.

"Hey, that's a great idea, Sander, I mean, Zander," Peter said. "Great idea. Smith. No spelling it and no explaining to anybody how to pronounce it."

"Who are you?" Edward Quartermaine asked, as if Peter were somehow trespassing.

"Peter Smith," he said. "He's my older brother. Who are you?"

"No brother of that deviant is going to live in this town," Edward said.

Monica said, "Not much you can do about it Edward. Let's go. You were going to see the Huffington woman? She's this way."

Quinn and Joe were staring after them, mouths agape. As soon as the two were out of sight, Joe and Quinn looked at each other. "That's him, isn't it!" Joe said. Quinn explained to Zander. "Aunt Maggie's irritable old man!"

Zander smiled, very slowly. "No big surprise," he said.


	36. Chapter 36

Quinn came into Zander's room later. Peter and Alexis sat in chairs, pulled up to his bed, each reading from one of the books Quinn and Alexis had brought. Marianna sat on the windowsill, looking out the window. Three people, Quinn thought. She'd never seen that before, yet it was common with most patients. Sometimes she could hardly get into a room for the visitors.

"You've got too much catching up to do to read that book," Quinn said, looking over Peter's shoulder.

"It turns out these books are a kind of catching up," Alexis answered. "Listen to this: 'Many times the oldest child in the divorcing family fares the worst, becoming the overburdened child, dealing with more than they should be at their age. The child parents the parent, and is burdened by the parents' fight over their time, affection and alliance.'"

"It does sound like a textbook description of you," Quinn said to Zander, taking his temperature.

"I don't remember it like that," Zander said, when she was finished with that and started listening to his chest. "I just remember being shuffled around between their houses and between countries and a lot of trips to court and a lot of visits from cops."

"But you did end up doing a lot of stuff," Peter said. "To me, anyway. They changed, you stayed the same. I remember you taking me to school in Moscow, like you were in charge. And the whole trip back to Florida when Mom came to Moscow; I felt like you were doing all that, more than Mom was. Like you were taking us back to her because she had the right. On the trips to court, I almost never had to go talk to the judge. They talked to you first, because you were the oldest, and mostly they were just satisfied with that and never bothered with me. I couldn't have told them anything you couldn't, anyway."

"They'd ask me where I wanted to go sometimes, or who I wanted to live with. They should have asked you that too. You might have a different opinion."

"No way! I wasn't going with one of them without you! No, really. I'd have literally said, 'I want to live with the one Sander wants to live with.'"

Joe Quinn came into the room, Tim Connor trailing behind him. "We're going out to the race track," he said. "Peter, you can come with us if you want to."

"No, thanks, Joe," Peter said. "I want to stay with Sander."

"No offense, Peter" Alexis said. "But he could probably use some quiet time."

"You are a bit of a chatterbox," Joe said to Peter, kindly.

"Yeah, I guess I am! What do you think, Sander? You need a break from my chattering? I can always come back the second you miss me."

"The very second," Joe said. "I'll bring him back," he said to Zander.

"Yeah. Thank you Joe. I don't think you need to be in a hospital room for hours on end, either, Pete. Take a break. Have some fun."

"It'd be more fun if you could come," Peter said to Zander.

"He will eventually," Quinn said, reassuringly. "He's not going to be stuck here forever."

"Well, OK," Peter said. "But only because you need a break, Z-z-z-z-z-z-z-ander." As he followed Joe out the door, he turned and said, with a big grin. "You can't get away again, Sandy. Don't even try it!"

Just before she got off work, Quinn stopped into Zander's room. "I got a call," she told him. "All is well. They're going out to dinner - to the Outback. Peter has 50 things to tell you. He'll be here tomorrow."

Zander smiled, looking off. She turned to go, and he said, "Nurse Question. Stop a minute."

She turned back.

"Thanks," he said. "for everything. I know this is a ton of work on you that the other patients don't put on you."

"That Joanna! She must be the one telling you about my complaining! Never mind it. I just do it for fun. It's not a problem."

"I have so many problems," he said. "I guess you don't. But if you ever do, well, anything I can do, I will."

"Forget it," she said.

"Taking care of Pete is above the call of duty. I can already say I told you so, you know. She's going to come to your house eventually, and blame your parents for his being up here."

"You mean your mom? Here's a thing to do for me - your pronouns are confusing - I know you don't want to call her Mom, at least not now. I don't blame you, really, I don't. Think up a code name for her. I know. Use first names. Whenever I'm talking about my parents to Joe, for instance. He knows them by their first names, so sometimes I use them. Especially if I am a little peeved at them. I'll be: "Danny says I don't know what I'm doing about such and such.'"

Zander laughed. "OK, it's a little thing I can do for you - better than nothing. He stopped a minute. "OK. Oksana's going to show up and demand to know why your parents stole Peter from her. Without thinking first, that maybe they might be helping, not doing something evil."

"Maybe Oksana's not the same. It's been four years. She might get it when it's explained. They'll forgive her initial impressions. You think - you might talk to her?"

He was silent.

"You're not alone, I can see you've got friends. I think you've got more than your realize. Alexis, she's your friend. You didn't have a friend like that when you were a kid. And you've got Joe Quinn. Don't give me total credit. He didn't have to like you or even come back a second time. You've got Cheryl even," she said looking at the flowers, then her eyes lit on the letter. "And you've got your girlfriend fifty percent of the time. Surely she'll do another 180."

"And another 180 after that. I wish I could write back. I'd like to give her a piece of my mind."

"What's that about, why don't you know where she is? Is it a big secret to everybody she knows, where she went to school?"

"I think her folks convinced her it was a good idea. I even thought so. They had me convinced I didn't really care about her if I didn't let her go. I knew she'd - Emily would call me up and tell me after she got there."

"Here," Quinn said. "Write her anyway. Even if you can't send it. It will help. I've tried it. It works." She looked in the drawer and found the hospital stationary. "It's isn't fair on her that she doesn't know about this shooting, though."

"Oh, it makes no difference, really. Should it, even?"

"In the long run, I guess not."

He took the paper from her. She fished around in her purse for a pen. "Here," she said. "And when you're done that, write one to each of your parents. Bye now."

"Good night, Nurse Question," she heard him say as she sailed out the door.


	37. Chapter 37

Alexis brought Peter back the next day, after they had taken Marianna to the airport. They were in the room when Quinn went in to look at the chart.

"We sent Marianna back to Florida," Alexis said. "School is starting. As to you, young man, you should be going back to school too, soon."

"Oh, I can miss school for this," Peter answered her. "Even Mom would agree. But you're coming back to Florida, Sander, aren't you? When you get out of here?"

"I don't know," Zander answered him. "I don't think I can handle that."

"No," Alexis said. "I don't want you to even try to make such a decision until you've been out of the hospital awhile. I have a job I need you to take, too. You're back in touch with your family, and that's good, but you're also 20, so you don't have to be in the same town. Like being away at college."

"Alexis is right," Quinn said. "There's something in the hospital manual about not making big decisions in the hospital if there's any possibility of putting them off. By definition, being in the hospital is being under stress, and one doesn't make good decisions under stress."

"I'm staying here, then," Peter declared.

"How do you plan to do that?" Zander asked him, teasingly.

"Why not? Mom isn't going to just leave you here. She can do her stuff from anywhere. You know how when Russians come to the US and always want to live where it's warm. But she knows how to deal with the cold. You should've gone to Yekaterinsburg. Oh, man, that place makes Moscow seem warm! Anyway, she'll just buy a house where you're at; I know she will. I can talk her into that in a flash."

"Why should you, change schools and all that? You can visit. She - " he looked at Quinn, then grinned, "Oksana can afford to send you up here every other weekend."

"You're a riot, Sander, always were!" Pete laughed. "And Wednesday nights, too, nyet? Heck, who cares about school? I don't do that good anyway. I'm sure they have schools here. One thing you can count on wherever you go, they have schools, and old Oksana will have me in one of them."

"You've got friends," Zander said.

"I'll email them. I'd rather be where you are. Gee, I haven't seen you in four years. Come on, admit it. You missed me."

"Of course I did. Everything I was trying to do, I could only keep going by thinking I was getting started somehow so I could help you out of that mess."

"Oh, it's all over now. We can handle Mom now. I know you don't think so, but it's changed, because Dad just isn't allowed to even talk to us without our saying he can. Now we know better than to follow him anywhere without proper documents, don't we Sander?"

"He has a point," Quinn said. "To think about. Later."

"Oh, I'm sorry Q., I keep pressuring him," Peter said. "But there's none, really, Zander. We'll just follow the leader, that's you."

"You want to live where it gets cold?" Zander said. "That'll be the day."

"Oh, I can handle a little cold weather. I survived all that time in Moscow, right?"

Zander laughed.

"Tim'll help me," Pete continued. "He's going to show me how to ski. There's all kinds of stuff we've never done, you and me, Sander, because of lack of snow and mountains."

Quinn said, "I think Peter will be happy anywhere."

"I agree," Alexis smiled. "Especially if he had his big brother to talk to."


	38. Chapter 38

"No wonder he's such a good listener," Quinn said to Alexis out in the lounge, later. "He could never get a word in edgewise! Is Oksana that talkative?"

"No, she's more like Zander. Now I'm almost wanting to meet the father! I'll lay odds he is more like Peter."

"Five minutes, and he'll be here," Quinn giggled.

"I wonder if we should keep him separate from Oksana," Alexis said. "What could we do? Build a wall? Draw a line?"

"Yeah! Or there's going to be war!"

"Hi, Quinn. This is my photographer, Lucky Spencer; he's here to see his girlfriend, and I came along, thinking I'd drop in and see Zander."

"I still can't get over you used to go out with him," Lucky said to Cheryl.

"You say that like he's some sort of criminal," Cheryl answered.

"He is some sort of criminal," replied Lucky.

Quinn pointed Cheryl to the lounge, where Zander was trying to walk around a bit. 

"Who are you visiting?" she asked Lucky Spencer. 

"Elizabeth Webber."

"Down at the end of the hall," Quinn said. "I'll take you."

"You know Zander too," she said to him as they walked.

"It's a small world. Can't believe how well Zander does. Cheryl's a great girl. After all he did to Emily, I was sure any of his past girlfriends were just really out of it, dumb girls."

"Do you know Emily, then?"

"I've know her for years. The last thing I expected. She had this boyfriend, Juan. He was into music, so was she. He went places with it."

"Good for him."

"Emily breaks it off with him over Zander. Who was in jail at the time! No wonder Edward Quartermaine calls him Svengali. None of us can understand it."

"So do you know where she went to college?"

"No, in fact."

"You're such good friends, but you can't even contact her when she goes away to college. I guess she writes to you. You just can't write her back?"

"No. But of course we could. The only reason we can't is because of Zander."

"Oh," Quinn said. "I get it. It's all his fault." She'd reached Miss Webber's door, and waved Lucky Spencer in.

Back at the desk, she could see Cheryl and Zander in the lounge. They saw her eventually, and came over to the desk.

"Small world, isn't it?" Cheryl said. "I was just telling Zander about me and Scott and you and Scott."

"Scott must have a lot on the ball," Zander observed.

"Flattery gets you far in life," Cheryl said.

"In fact, here's my high school prom picture," Quinn said, pulling it from her board. She handed it to Cheryl.

Zander and Cheryl looked at it. Cheryl giggled.

"I know - I laugh at Paul's high school picture," Quinn said. "You guys must be serious. At least, you've been going out a long while. I remember I was still with Sean when I met you."

"It has been awhile," Cheryl said. "I was still at PC high school then. My parents freaked. Scott was in college. Older man. Now he doesn't seem like it."

"PC High," Quinn said. "Did you know this Lucky Spencer back then? Or Emily Quartermaine?" she nodded towards Zander.

"Both, I could say I knew by name," Cheryl said. "I was never friends with either of them. Zander was friends with everybody. Though now we know you weren't a real student! How in the world did you pull that off?"

"Easy," Zander said.

"I can't believe no teacher gets suspicious. Seeing you around but never seeing you in class."

"Mercy High was too small for that to ever happen," Quinn added.

"That's why you can't stay in one school for long," Zander said. "But do you have any other pictures?" he asked Quinn, clearly anxious to change the subject.

"Well, yes. Here's me and Paul, here's me at my college graduation with my parents. Oh, you'll like this. See if you can tell who it is. A couple of years older than you are now."

Zander looked at them, holding them so Cheryl could look, too. "That shrink! I knew you sent him!"

"Me? He's just a shrink on the hospital staff!" Quinn said, playing innocent.

"You look different in this picture," he said. "More different than in your high school picture."

"Very pretty," Cheryl said. "I think Deception would hire you if you wanted."

"Nice family picture," Zander said. "And your college graduation. Is that the diploma you've got there? They had the whole ceremony and all that?"

"Yes," Quinn said. She was a little touched at how wistfully he looked at it. He must be thinking about how close he would be now to graduating from college, she thought.

"Oh," he said, brightening up. "This is Joe! Ha ha! Joe was young once! But you can see it's him."

"Good job," Quinn said. "I'll tell him you recognized him."


	39. Chapter 39

Alexis found the print-out she had and studied it. Sergei Kanishchev had no criminal record other than the custody charges and some minor looking stuff from the few years before that, all of which clearly arose out of the arguments Zander had already described and a few minor, resolved problems with the IRS that were really old.

She looked at her skip traces. He was wealthy enough to make Oksana look like a small timer - in fact, wealthy enough to make the Quartermaines look like small timers. The probation and parole office report that V. had sneaked for her showed he was in Daytona racing cars, and slowly getting back into the swing of things. His lawyer's name was there. Alexis thought about calling him.

Sergei was in his middle 60s, and must have been quite an older man to Oksana, Alexis thought. But he had not been married before and he didn't have any older children. He had been admitted to the US in the late 1970s as an asylee, along with Oksana. It was easy in those days for any Soviet citizen to claim asylum in the west - if you wanted to reject the Soviet Union by leaving it forever, such proof of the evils of living under a communist government was too good for any government in the west to pass up, especially the United States. 

Sergei and Oksana had been naturalized as US citizens about the earliest year they could have, in the mid 1980s, on the same day. She pulled up the copies of their old certificates, which, in the blank where people put their former countries, they had, like other cold war defectors, entered the word "stateless."

She tried to imagine what that would feel like, but though her own family had a Russian emigre past, that was nothing like this. The whole family had fled (she hadn't even known for sure it was her family until relatively recently), they'd had the money to flee, and to live as they liked and be welcomed anywhere. It had been over 40 years before Alexis was even born and up to 80 years now. The Soviet Union could fall, but there was still no connection left. Nobody with that past had anyone in Russia to run back and see now that it was opened.

But this was a different kind of case, Alexis recognized. These two had to find some opening for escape, have the nerve to take advantage of it, and to leave their families, presumably for good, even exposing their families to some danger of reprisal. They had nothing when they first came, to the U.S., so they must have fought hard to establish themselves at all, let alone become as rich and successful as they had. Alexis realized how easily these two took big risks. She started getting some idea what they must be like.

Then to have their original country just open back up unexpectedly - the possibilities to both of them, arising out of that, must have looked pretty extensive.

She could see Sergei had gone from restriction, in fact, oppression, to relative freedom, in fact, he hadn't realized how restricted he still was, thus the problems with the IRS. Then he'd found an unexpected boon - the place he'd fled from as too repressive had become a place where he could get away with just about anything; his years in America only giving him an advantage - knowledge about what to do with all that freedom his ex-countrymen might have barely understood yet.

She called the lawyer, Tom Zemsky. He took Alexis at her word about who she was, and was professionally friendly, and pretty upbeat about Sergei, saying he was going to be fine if he just stayed away from his damned ex-wife and his kids. The restraining order against Peter was pretty serious; if Sergei disregarded it, he could get into a heap of trouble, and Tom had no doubt whatsoever that Oksana was going to file to enforce the order the minute after Sergei might violate it.

"The one on your client just leaves it all up to your client. So if Sergei talks to him, if that son wants to, he can file to enforce the order, but the penalties aren't as severe. This son doesn't have to do anything, by the same token, so he can talk to Sergei at his own option. This son can have the order declared null and void if he wants to."

"When Peter's 18th birthday comes around, does that order change?"

"It switches over, so that it's the same as with your client's order."

"But, Oksana can't do anything if Zander, that is, my client, talks to Sergei."

"No. The law is funny, I guess it just figures when you're over 18, boom, you can handle it all yourself. I recommended to Sergei not to push it, if this kid is in college somewhere, it's just going to become a problem, let the kid decide and don't push him at all; if you must, wait until he's 21 or even 25."

"Good advice." She went on to explain Zander's problem with the medical history.

"Sergei has an interesting history," Tom said. "I remember that much. I don't think he even knew his parents. Like the Soviets sent them off to the camps, or something." Oh, hell, Alexis thought. It began to dawn on her that it might be difficult to track down this side of the family or to know what they might naturally have died of.

"What is he like?" she asked Tom. "Hot tempered?"

"Not really. No, I wouldn't describe it that way. Hot tempered in a way that it doesn't show, you know? He took his sons over to Russia, and I think he knew he was violating the court orders. But then people generally aren't that respectful of domestic relations orders. By the time you talk to him awhile, you can end up convinced he really was doing it for their good, or that he's convinced of that himself. He must have known he was violating the law, yet he came back over to the US just to get them, as if he didn't realize how quickly they would enforce it against him or how bad the penalty would be."

"Impulsive?"

"Yes, very. But really charming. He could sell snow to the Russians and coal to Newcastle. He's not really a schemer; I think he got himself into this because he just thought he had an opening to get his ex-wife out of his hair."

"How'd he get to defect, anyway?"

"I'm not sure, something about traveling with the athletic team - that was what got him into the US. Yeah, he was a skating coach. He started out with a sporting goods business, just ice skates and related stuff, and then to sporting goods in general, and then he went from there to chains of sporting goods and from there to public relations companies, professional teams, and up from there to other types of companies and out to merging and trading. Still likes the race cars, and sponsors them."

"Was he there in Daytona his whole life in the US - I mean, did he ever live anywhere else? - besides at Uncle Sam's Hotels."

Tom laughed. "Besides the Federal Country Clubs, I think he was always here in Daytona."

"You wouldn't mind if I called him about this medical history? Or do you think it's better to talk to him first?"

"I'll talk to him - I think I should because it involves this kid - I want to advise him it doesn't make any difference to the order, and I could help you out just advising him that it's ok for him to talk to you. Then you won't have to try to explain it all."

"OK, thanks. I appreciate your help."


	40. Chapter 40

"I have something for you, Question," Zander said, "Those letters you told me to write. You don't have to read them, but could you hide them somewhere else? I'm afraid the wrong person will get hold of them. Like Oksana will come in here sometime I'm out of it, or Dr. Monica Quartermaine will look on that desk and read that letter."

"Sure," Quinn said. "Both those happenings would be pretty much of a pain in the neck." 

He'd just put the letters in a stack, which she put in an envelope, took home and stuck in a drawer. She didn't read them, except the one on the top, which said, "Dear Nurse ? - Thank you; this was a good idea, now they're yours. Copyright, evidentiary value and everything. Sincerely, Zander Smith"

Kathleen Connor came to the hospital with Tim and Peter the next day. Alexis had gotten a hold of Zander's key and gone in to his room, but found he didn't have any bathrobes.

"But I found his US passport in his real name," Alexis told Quinn, "I was thoroughly amazed at first. But then I realized how valuable he would think that was."

Kathleen and the two boys had gone out and gotten Zander two robes. "Is it Christmas?" Zander asked.

Kathleen grinned. "I told them each to pick one color. Peter picked red for Russian, so Tim here decides to be original and pick green for Irish."

"I'll take the green one," Zander said, liking Kathleen right off the bat, since Joe Quinn obviously liked her a whole lot, and her bright twinkling eyes revealed that soul that would just up and take care of Pete like this just because he was there.

"These are both yours," she said, "but I agree, you could use the luck of the Irish first off."

"We watched Notre Dame play last night, Sander," Pete said. "The football team. They lost. That is a terrible thing, S-z-zander, and I'm glad you missed it."

Tim said: "That was a really bad play in the third quarter." He continued describing and severely criticizing this play to Peter. Kathleen's eyes were crinkled up in a laughing smile. "It's a good thing you were spared, that," she told Zander.

A few days later, Zander was walking down the hall in the green robe when Quinn came in. "Don't overdo that," Terri Hayes was telling him. "I know you like your new freedom. Just take it easy." She told Quinn that Dr. Monica Quartermaine wanted him to do a stress EKG, since he could walk now.


	41. Chapter 41

Alexis looked at Sergei's immigration record. She found his patronymic, Ivanovich, which meant his father was Ivan Kanishchev, and when she looked harder she saw where Sergei had filled in the whole name on one of the forms; Ivan Pavlovich Kanishchev, and the name of his mother, Maria Aleksandrovna Ovchinnikova.

According to Sergei, they had all been born in Saratov, a city on the Volga about 200 miles north of Stalingrad.

It might not be impossible to find out what happened to them. The Soviet Union couldn't be accused of not keeping records, anyway. Too much of a police state to let things just hang, disorganized. There must be some way of finding out who Sergei's cousins were, between these and their descendants, maybe there would be enough for Monica Quartermaine.

Alexis looked on the internet and became satisfied that people who were doing their Russian genealogies didn't seem to give it up as hopeless when people had been sent off to the gulags. In fact, many of them had certificates of "rehabilitation" - some sort of restoration of their civil rights, along with apologies from the modern government, all in writing.

She made a few more searches. To her utter amazement, she was able to find the name Ivan Pavlovich Kanishchev on a list published a few years back - which meant that if this was the same guy, Sergei's father was a Red Army officer shot in 1939.

"Oh lovely," Alexis thought. "The Long Q-T Syndrome might not have even gotten the chance to kill anybody who might have had it."

When she got to talk to Sergei on the phone - Tom Zemsky had been good enough to set up a three way call - she only learned what she feared - he was raised on an orphanage, didn't know what had become of his mother and said his father was taken out and shot in the Red Terror. He said he knew this, because the government opened all the records and admitted all the murders they had done; he'd suspected it, and found his father's name on some list, and the records on his death.

"They send me a letter apologizing and making him a person again," said Sergei. "I never see this guy, not even in picture." He didn't know a thing about his mother. Alexis asked him how he'd gotten her name for the immigration papers. Sergei said it was always on his birth certificate. His knowledge of his family had come to an end right there - the names of both parents.

Alexis marveled at the resiliency of blood ties - they may have been able to raise somebody in an orphanage and brainwash them all they wanted, but it still didn't work. She asked him why he had chosen to defect, and he said he had no family there, he knew the Soviet Union was "a fake," and Oksana had wanted to stay in America. Alexis asked when they had gotten married, and where, in the Soviet Union or in America.

"In America, right after," he answered. 

He'd had little interest in his relatives, and had not thought of looking for cousins. One just didn't do that. No one else did. You'd be suspect for trying. He just accepted that he had no family. He didn't know where to start to try to find out who they were and what had been their fates, but he did vow to find out whatever he could.

"Some people, they study all that stuff, I can find somebody like that," he said to Alexis, over the phone. He told her he'd bring her everything. Tom warned him that Port Charles was a quagmire for him. Peter and Zander were there and Oksana would surely go back.

"You sure there can be somesing wrong with my sonce a-heart?" he asked. His accent was heavy, but it didn't stop him. Every "th," - a sound not existing in Russian - was an "s" or a "d" and every "j" was a mix of "z" and "d" for the same reason. Most of his "w's" were "v's." He threw "a's" in the way Italian speakers of English did, as if he didn't think words should end just where they did. He tended to accent the wrong syllable. But he forged ahead fearlessly with every sentence, and was really fairly easy to understand. "Maybe she try to get me to go to Peter to get me back in jail. I have private detective agency on this for years, and they come up with nothing."

"No, this came up first," Alexis said. "I already knew Zander, and he didn't want to contact his family. I found you and Oksana, and that got her detective to find us."

"I can't believe anything is wrong with that kid," he said. "There isn't any healthier kid in the world. Athletic, like me."

"Were you? And you've had no heart problems?" she asked.

"No. Nothing wrong with me ever in my life. Nothing wrong with Aleksander, ever. He's the best one at baseball in Babe Ruth league in Daytona. He go wind-surfing all the time. He run around all the time. He play tennis all the time. He ride a bike all over the county. Over in Moscow, he's the best one on the soccer team for kids that age. He get some award, I forget which. He get some medal for swimming. He get another award for playing tennis over there, too. In summer, they have a league. You name it, he can play it."

"This all sounds like pretty good news," Alexis said. "At least, you and he are in good shape. But maybe you should be careful. This thing cuts down athletes, even."

"I do ice skating, no big wins, but the reason I don't is they tell me I go too fast, too hard. I do all this for years and I don't get cut down. Still here. Still run every day. But if you think it could knock down Aleksander, I gonna go and look them all up."


	42. Chapter 42

**Part 42**

Quinn thought the doctors would have moved Zander down out of ICU, to a regular ward, but figured he was still there because of the heart issue. When Quinn went to check on Elizabeth Webber, Zander was sitting at her bedside, on the edge of a chair.

Quinn did not chase him out. He watched her for awhile. "Same routine," he said.

"Am I boring you?" Quinn asked.

"Not at all."

"Well, you will have to clear out of here in a moment or two," Quinn said.

"Gee, it sounds like something I would hate to miss," he said.

Quinn's eye fell on a letter on Elizabeth's bedside stand. "I recognize that handwriting!" Quinn said. She laughed. "Miss Webber got her own crummy letter from dumb Emily!"

"She's my best friend," Elizabeth explained.

"Sorry," Quinn said. "I didn't mean to offend. I have acquired a biased view from someone else," her eyes rolling upward and towards Zander.

"She said she was your best friend," he said to Elizabeth. "Those are only words, remember. It wasn't all that junk about her brother," Zander said then to Quinn. "It was something else. She's got another guy! She tells that to Elizabeth, anyway."

"This guy had some learning disability, and she was helping him with it," Elizabeth said, as though that explained it all.

"We've just been deciding she gets bored when a guy needs no more help," Zander explained to Quinn. "Juan had all these problems - that's her first boyfriend, or her second, an earlier one had a drug addiction. Juan had some problem about running away from his folks, and he was adopted and was up here looking for his birth parents. He got into trouble in the process. This never stopped Good Old Juan from lecturing me. Old Juan, you see, had gotten it all straightened out. He went on to become a rock star. Therefore he got unlucky when I came along, jail, arrests, charges, problems. Now as far as she knows, I have a job, and no legal problems. Very boring."

"If she only knew," Quinn smiled demurely.

"She'd have wrecked her first semester over it," Elizabeth said. "I'm sure, if she had known about your getting shot. She'd have been here."

"You could keep her forever," Quinn said to Zander, "if you just give her a daily report on your life."

"Real funny," Zander said, sarcastically. But he laughed.

Quinn went to the end of the bed and lifted Elizabeth's chart. She looked at Zander.

He took the hint and got up to leave. But first he went up behind Quinn. She decided to explain the effect of taking pain medication, and to claim it had speeded up Elizabeth's recovery, where his had been detained, and was about to say something to that effect, when he put both arms around her waist and laid his head against hers. "See, I have another girlfriend," he said to Elizabeth. "So tell her all about it, will you?"

Quinn squiggled and tried to laugh, and was shocked at the effect his touching her had on her. She tried to squiggle out, knowing she should, and started her mini-lecture on the pain medication. "Svengali," she thought, hearing him laugh at her lecture, and noticing he put his hands on her shoulders and massaged them for a brief second, before he left Elizabeth's room.


	43. Chapter 43

**Part 43**

Alexis had seen enough pictures of Sergei in his files to recognize him when he came into her office.

"You know you shouldn't be here," she said. Oksana called her once, and told her she was finding out a lot, and that she'd return with all the information in a few days. "Oksana will be back in a few days," she informed him.

"I just talk to this doctor Quarter, you know, you gave me her name and her number. She want me to come here for EKG and go talk to her. I come up to ask you to help. I pay for your time, no problem. Exactly why I ask you to help is, get me in and outta hospital without violating these damned things." He put a copy of the orders on the table.

"So far, I find out some wonderful stuff," he said. "Like my mother perish in the gulag, and they gonna send me another letter of apology. My father have two brothers, and a sister, every one, they die in Siberia, no way to find out how, but probably even if their heart give out it could have happen without having this disease. My grandparents, I got even death certificates. They die of old age. Likely broken heart, too."

"You've found out a lot," Alexis said, sympathetically. "Thank you."

"They keep working on it. I got a teacher of Aleksander's in Moscow, he like history and that kinda stuff, some of the same happen in his own family. He call me every day with more interesting stuff. No diseases, though."

Zander was sitting in the lounge, green robe on again (he favored the green one at the total expense of the red one, to Quinn's great amusement), reading "Family Breakdown." A woman came into the lounge. She saw him and ran over to him. He seemed to recognize her and stood up. "My baby!" she said and flew into his arms.

She stepped back after a second, crying, tears running down her cheeks. "What are you doin' in a hospital, Sandy?" she demanded. "You sick?"

"No, Rosa, just an injury. I'm much better." She hugged him again. He hugged her back. "It's really ok, Rosa," he said.

Quinn was struck by how mature he acted in those few seconds. Such contrast from one situation to the next.

"Peter called me. Finally! I almost had a heart attack you might be found dead, but I really knew you were not. Always knew you were not, I promise, Alejandro."

Quinn went to them. "Would you like to come with us?" she said to Rosa. "He's got to go for a test on another floor."

Zander followed Quinn, and brought Rosa along with his arm around her. The three of them went to the elevator and down to the lab - he was touchingly attentive to Rosa, as if she were the one who was going for a medical test.

Quinn sat Rosa down in the lab's waiting room and brought the chart to the technicians. They took Zander off for the test.

Rosa sensed that Quinn knew about his condition, and she asked fifty questions as they waited. "Like the normal mother," Quinn thought to herself. She explained the situation a little bit, and Rosa thought the worst. "Mr. Sergei, and Ms. Oksana never had a single relative come around," she said. "It's just like Cuba, where they came from. But worse. Cubans come as whole families. It's not that far away, either."

Quinn smiled. "Your family came from Cuba."

"Oh, yes," she said. "Back in 1959, and all my uncles and aunts eventually came, all my cousins," she said. "Not nearly so cut off as they get from their family in that horrible Russia."

"Did you know Mr. Sergei had taken them there?" Quinn asked.

"Yes, I cried so hard. Miss Oksana looked and looked. Police, detectives, everyone, looking all over. And when she finally gets them back - by then I was working in Miami - she and Pedro - I called them by their name in Spanish, they thought it was funny - came to see me one day. Alejandro already gone again, this time on his own decision. We looked and looked and looked."

"I know a little about that," Quinn smiled gently.

When Zander came out from the test, Quinn got the charts and the three of them went out into the hall. "Feeling ok?" Quinn asked Zander. "I can get you a chair."

Rosa took his right arm. Quinn was standing on his other side, and took the other, shifting her chart to her left arm. She looked up and saw, about 30 feet away across and big hall, Alexis and a good-looking older man. She felt Zander's left arm harden into stone.

She looked up at Zander. He was glaring at the man.

Then she heard Peter's voice. "Man, Mom, you got a lot of stuff in that folder."

Horrified, Quinn looked to her left to see Peter and Oksana - she held a thick folder, like a schoolgirl's notebook, almost - stop, cold, both walking and talking, when they saw Zander. Quinn looked back at Zander. Now he was glaring at Oksana.

"Well, OK," Alexis said. "This is my doing, and not Sergei's at all, so there's no violations. We're on our way to Dr. Quartermaine's office, and we're going to go there now, if you'll excuse us." She took Sergei's arm. Zander switched back to glaring at Sergei as they moved down the hall.

"Dad!" Peter said. Joyfully, he ran up to Sergei and hugged him. "Oh, no," Quinn thought.

Sergei hugged him back, quickly, but as if he figured that he was doomed anyway. "Ok, my boy," he said. "It is good to see you. You've grown. I gotta go for now, though." He walked off with Alexis.

"Aw, heck, Mom," Peter said. "It's only Dad. Can't I go talk to him? Sander and I," he said, seeing his brother.

"It is not so easy, Peter," she said. "We have to talk about it, figure it out, legally. If you want to," she looked at Zander, "we will."

Her eyes were big and wide as she stared back at Zander. She swallowed hard, and she looked pale. Quinn felt bad for her.

Quinn looked back at Rosa, and as if their minds were connected, they agreed silently to move their charge on.

They got into the elevator. His arm was still like a stone, and he said nothing. "Of all the luck," Quinn fumed, fingering the green robe a second.

Unintentionally, she had grabbed his attention. She looked up expecting that glare on her now, but it wasn't - he just looked at her tiredly. He closed his eyes then and leaned against the back of the elevator.


	44. Chapter 44

In her office, with Alexis, Sergei and Oksana sitting on the other side of her desk Alexis was in the middle, Monica looked at the folder Oksana had brought. Sergei tried not to look at Oksana. Oksana glared at him every once in awhile. Monica was a little unnerved at how much Oksana's angry look reminded her of Zander's.

Whatever one might want to say about Oksana; she was no slouch. She had all of Zander's childhood records, nothing but check-ups, Monica saw, all passed with flying colors, and the same for Peter. From Russia she had gotten, it appeared, any medical record in existence on her parents, her two older brothers, herself and her younger sister. There were some medical records on three of Oksana's grandparents, and death certificates for all four of them. She'd had her parents, herself and her siblings examined – the doctor who did this was a cardiologist, Marina Grigorievna Tikhonova. Dr. Tikhonova had subjected all 6 people to EKGs and examined all of them, reviewed all their records and done a report addressed to Monica. All translated, of course. The reports discussed the possibility of the very disorder Monica was looking for, and a few others besides. Dr. Tikhonova didn't think anything was wrong with any of them and thought none of them had any hint of Long Q-T Syndrome.

Oksana had been an athlete, on the ice skating team – the placement that had gotten her a trip into the US, where she and her coach defected, the record remarked.

Nothing to hint there could be the slightest arrhythmia in any cardiac chamber of any member of the Yesatkin family. One of Oksana's nieces had, when very young, been checked for a heart murmur, but that appeared to have gone away or never to have existed in the first place.

Monica said, "Well, it looks as if we can acquit the Yesatkin side of the family."

"Can what?" Oksana asked.

"I don't think your side of Zander's family shows any evidence that he could have Long Q-T Syndrome. The problem I wanted to check him for," she added. Oksana looked relieved, even victorious. Oh no, Alexis thought. For Oksana was looking at Sergei.

Alexis reported as much as she could herself, looking at Sergei now and then for confirmation. Monica made a face or two.

"You think this is the most we can get?" Monica said, to Alexis.

"Probably."

"Well, abundance of caution gets me – you know how things are nowadays – " with a glance at Alexis, comprehending all lawyers and their evil litigious ways – "still, since Mr. Kansh, Mr. Kanch - "

"Sergei," he said helpfully

"Since Sergei was an athlete himself, and survived that period, I feel all right passing on this to conclude that no one has the Long Q-T Syndrome. For abundance of caution I would recommend doing a series of EKGs, say one per month, on both Sergei and Zander. The more tests I have with no prolonged Q-T waves, the better I feel that they don't have it. Then I'd settle for an EKG every six months on all three of them – father and the two sons. Do you have any other children, either of you?"

Both said they did not.

"Report all that to me and I'll follow up on Zander," Monica said.


	45. Chapter 45

**Part 45**

Quinn and Paul were at Paul's house, cuddling up on the couch. He kissed her, and she kissed him. She felt his arms tighten around her.

But when she felt his arm tighten up, it reminded her of Zander Smith's arm tightening up when he saw both of his parents at once at the hospital, after not seeing either of them for years.

"Sorry," she said. "I just can't concentrate."

"Rough day," he said. "OK, just relax."

She felt worse. Paul was always upbeat and always nice. Didn't he ever get upset? Maybe psychiatrist training gets you to think it's not worth it, she thought.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I don't want to be a drag," she said, leaning back.

"Well, you are a drag, so you may as well make it interesting," he said, teasingly.

She sat forward. He massaged the back of her neck and then her upper back. She felt even worse.

She described the scene outside the lab after Smith's EKG, conscious that she exaggerated the stress on herself just a bit.

"I guess you get days like that," she said.

"Worse," Paul laughed. "People yelling right at me. Blaming me for their problems. It goes with the territory. Mostly, they get back on track. See, you can't take it to heart, or you go nuts. All their problems aren't your problems. It's not mean. You just can't."

"I know, I know. I have to learn that."

"Sure. You're still a little new. As luck would have it, you get this really stressful situation. You stick your neck out, too, that's your nature. Heck, now you've got his brother at your folks' house. You feel bad that you're so much luckier than other people, am I right?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"I think I see a good sign there," he said, helpfully.

Quinn looked at him.

"If Smith had a cold politeness, or even just acted like - hello, how nice to see you after all these years - then he'd be years away from resolving his unresolved anger. But if he was glowering angrily at them both as you describe, he's fairly close."

"Really?" she said, starting to sound hopeful.

"Yeah. It's doesn't sound, to me anyway, like it's repressed. So it'll get cleared. The mother's not avoiding him, the father doesn't avoid him by choice, and the younger brother's attitude will guilt the rest of them into making up."

"That makes sense. I didn't think of it like that. Thank you. Thanks for listening to this. You're really good, you know that?"

He laughed. "I'll send you my bill," he said.

She laughed, and leaned back against him.


	46. Chapter 46

The next day, Rosa was in the room, fussing over the blankets on Zander's bed and anything else that he needed. Zander actually submitted to this with the minimum resistance possible, to Quinn's great amusement. She was glad he hadn't turned on the wearing of the green because of the run-in downstairs. But guys didn't get superstitious about things like that.

He wouldn't talk to Oksana though. She and Alexis were out in the lounge.

Quinn was passing by with Elizabeth Webber's medication when she heard Oksana say: "He talks to Rosa. She's not even his mother!"

"That's precisely why it is easier for him to talk to her," Alexis said, soothingly. "Try again. I don't feel like his refusal was iron clad. Just a hunch. I'll go with you."

Quinn ran after them. Zander was doing pretty well now. But her professional instinct was to be there in case it became necessary to throw Oksana out of the room. Man, she thought. My life will be so much easier when he's finally gone!

Quinn had to give Oksana some credit for brazenness, in spite of what Alexis had thought. Like her son, Quinn thought.

She stood at the doorway.

"Oksana," he said, as if greeting a minor acquaintance he had seen only a few days before.

"He's really taking my advice," Quinn whispered to Alexis, "further than I thought. I suggested using his parents first names as a way of talking about them without just saying he and she all the time. I didn't think he'd use them on them directly."

"It's still a good idea," Alexis whispered back, turning her head. "Maybe it even makes it possible for him to talk to her at all. He has something to call her, you know?"

But Oksana said, "Why you call me that?"

"It's your name, isn't it?"

"I want to help."

"Thank you for the family background."

"Dr. Quartrain thinks you don't probably don't have this, this disease."

"Quartermaine."

"Dr. Quar -ter-maine," Oksana repeated, slowly, stepping into the room. Rosa, sitting in a chair, stared at Oksana, then got up and went to her.

"Ms. Oksana, it is so good to see you," she said.

"Rosa," Oksana smiled. "It is good of you to come all this way just to see Aleksander."

"Peter called me and told me – I was so happy! I had to come. He has grown up! So handsome!"

Zander rolled his eyes, but not without a shadow of a smile.

"Yes," Oksana said. She went a few steps further. "I have some stuff for you," she said. "Your birthday presents for 17 to 20. From me and from Peter."

"Me too," Rosa said. "That's what we did, Aleksander, to prove to ourselves we would see you again."

"You're not buying me off," he said, angrily, forgetting Rosa and looking at Oksana.

"I'm getting close to wanting to close this scene," Quinn said, in an undertone, to Alexis.

"What you so angry about, Aleksander?" Oksana asked.

His eyes widened. He looked at her in amazement. "Oh, nothing," he said sarcastically. "I'm just being unreasonable."

"All this because you wanted to go back to Moscow! Instead of go to Daytona Prep! School's better here. Everybody over there wants to live here. It wasn't legal anyway! You had nothing in Moscow."

"No, Oksana, nobody wants to live in Moscow, especially not me. I had nothing there. Oh, there was this little thing. My father. But that would be the same as nothing to you, wouldn't it?"

Oksana looked stunned.

Alexis stepped in then. "OK," she said, tugging at Oksana's arm. Oksana backed out somewhat obediently, but backwards, still staring at her son as she followed Alexis out.

Rosa went back and started fussing over Zander.

Alexis got Oksana to sit down in the lounge, and walked back over to Quinn, looking at her a wide-eyed face of sympathetic aggravation.

"I promise you - " Quinn said to Alexis, "I know you might have missed it in all that confusion - but he was staring at his father with every bit as much fury as he looked on Oksana with."

"Hmmm," Alexis said. "I think I'll ask Sergei to hang around a little while. He's got to do his EKG today. Do you think your patient is up to it?"

"Yeah," Quinn said, slowly, considering. "This actually wasn't bad, in a way." She explained Paul's opinion to Alexis.

Alexis nodded. "Though I am ready to knock her silly," she said. "Can't believe she's arguing with him already. She really seemed to refuse to see any right for him to be angry, did you think so?"

"Maybe she'll get it when she's had a chance to think some more."

"She makes it sound like he's a spoiled brat who just didn't want to go to school," Alexis fumed, "Like she missed the part that she and her ex trapped him in their perpetual, sick conflict. Like continual emotional turmoil is just a little inconvenience for an 11-year-old."

"Like she doesn't even get that he's got any feelings of his own," said Quinn, "I think she only sees her side of it."

"I have an idea," Alexis said. She headed back for Zander's room.

She came back out with "Understanding the Effects of Divorce on Children," "Family Breakdown," and the "Journal of Marriage and the Family."

"You're brilliant," Quinn said, with a smile.

"Here Oksana," Alexis said, going over to her. Oksana was already recovering, but said, rather helplessly, to Alexis: "I don't know what to say to him."

Alexis plopped the books down on a coffee table in front of Oksana. "Read this."

"Read that? What is it?"

"Just some clues. For what you seem to be clueless about – now you've found your son. I think you're a very focused person, Oksana, and you've been focused on finding Aleksander. You've done that. Now for the hard part."

Oksana took the books, looking up at Alexis doubtfully, but she took them.


	47. Chapter 47

Zander was out in the lounge. He didn't realize it, but he was sitting in the chair Oksana had been sitting in. Quinn thought he looked OK, and went down the hall to see two other patients.

Quinn came out of Nicole McNabb's room and headed back to the nurse's station to get some information. She saw Joanna sitting on the arm of Zander's chair, her arm casually thrown around his shoulders.

"Thank you!" she said to him.

"What for?"

"For telling me about some of the stuff in that book! And some of what happened to you!"

"What good was it?"

"Two weeks ago when Charlie brought the kids back late, I was furious. I was ready to call my lawyer. Fortunately I can rarely get through to that woman and so nothing happened. I'm beginning to see why she makes it so hard to reach her! But this last weekend, he did it again! A half hour late. It makes it harder to get everything done to get them in bed on time when they are starting a new week of school. But I just did it all and didn't bother to get mad. I thought, oh well, it's just a half hour."

He smiled. "You wouldn't do all that stuff my parents did anyway."

"You never know. What if I had the money to do it? I might have. I was mad enough!"

Quinn was looking down at her charts, but smiled to herself, hearing that.

"I see that grin," Joanna said. "There's my witness! She heard me complain about Charlie for the whole 10 minutes on the way in to work from Kelly's!"

Quinn looked up. "I understand. You'll do the same for me someday, I'm sure."

"You're not paying attention," Zander said, "since you just told Joanna you're sure you're going to get a divorce after you had the kids."

"Statistic-wise, I don't imagine I'm any different," Quinn said, going over to them.

"Well, that's cynical," Joanna said. "But you're supposed to think you are the exception. Don't we all? Besides, you probably are. She turned down one lawyer and one doctor already, " Joanna explained to Zander. "So when she accepts, we will at least know the husband is the most perfect husband in the world."

"And who would that be?" Quinn asked, laughing. "Tell me so I can start dating him right now. Is it Prince William?"

"Are there any Kennedys left?" Zander asked Joanna. "One of them would be perfect."

"Doesn't have to be that grand," Joanna said, going along with the joke. "Grab one of the Quartermaines. Q.Q. Wouldn't that be cool? One's a doctor – he's single. The other one, Junior – he's divorced. I don't know what he does, but with his family owning ELQ, he'll always be a CEO whenever he pleases."

"Money isn't everything," Quinn said.

"No kidding," Zander said, "But what about the shrink?"

"He's the one turned down," Joanna said.

"But she talks like she's still with him."

"I guess she is. But my opinion, is well, if when he asks, you're not excited to death and so happy and all that, then why stick with it? She thinks she should still consider it, because it's the mature thing to do."

"If I were him, I'd hate that."

"Why?"

"I would not want any girl to marry me because it was" – he pitched his voice really low, to say, like an announcer – "The Mature Thing to Do."

"Well, you'll never have that problem," Joanna said, ruffling his hair.

"Huh?" Zander said. "Oh, I get it. Yeah, marrying me would never be the mature thing to do. It would be the stupid thing to do."

"Don't be too insulted by that," Quinn said. "There's a compliment hidden in that."

"There is?"

"Think about it. She marries you even though it is a stupid thing to do."

He still looked confused.

"We'll let you figure that one out," Joanna said, grinning.

The next day, Zander Smith was finally moved out of ICU to a regular room upstairs. "Freedom," Joanna said, when she saw Quinn. "Well, except for his little brother at your folks house."

"That's no problem," Quinn said. "No problem at all."

"Still I'm glad Zander's better."

"Yeah, he was getting hyper, too," Quinn said. "I guess they know better how to handle that in the regular ward."

Joanna smiled.


	48. Chapter 48

"All is well, Sander," Peter said, coming into Zander's room. Now Zander had a roommate, who was asleep right then. "I'm staying put now. In this town. Port Charles. Is that the name of it?"

"No you're not, and you have to go back to school."

"I am in school! Mom and I first went to the Port Charles Academy, and it is filled up. The tiniest school! So I'm going to Mercy High School. They have space even for non-Catholics! She just has to join the Parish. St. – St. Michael's or something like that."

"No way. She did not. She wouldn't do any of that. Besides, much as I would love to have you here - "

"Oh, you don't want Mom here. She'll be gone most of the time on business anyway. Remember that? Not to worry. She's looking for a house."

"And you're going to stay in a hotel, I guess, and alone when she's gone on business? Go back with Rosa."

"No and no. I'm staying with the Cons until she finds the house. She doesn't want me to stay in the hotel, because it's a hotel, and Dad is at the same hotel two floors up. I know! There goes that hotel! But Mom came over and talked to Mr. and Mrs. Connor and they worked it all out." 

"You can't stay here."

"Too late, Sander. Zander. I'm signed up. The soccer coach is already counting on me. You know what I did? Signed up to take Russian. Easy A! Aren't you proud of me, Sandy?"

"You can take Russian at a Catholic School? And you aren't even Catholic!"

"They have Russian. They're not in the Middle Ages anymore. I know we've never had a religion, but what could it hurt? I have a class in it. And Mrs. Connor is a teacher, you know. She was talking to a guidance counselor she knows at the high school, the public one, whatever it's called. About you. They want to see if they can fix your education. Educational problems, they called it. Educational challenges. Something like that. Hey, where's Q?"

"You mean Question?"

"Yeah. You don't know what the Q stands for. That's a family joke now."

"You're staying with them, so you must know by now."

"Yeah."

"So?"

"So what?"

"What does it stand for?"

"Cute," Peter said, laughing. "It stands for cute. Come on, Sandy, you can figure this one out."


	49. Chapter 49

The nurses were all gathered around someone in the lounge. Eventually, Quinn saw it was AJ Quartermaine. He was holding a toddler in his arms – she presumed it was his son. Everybody was oohing and aahing over the baby and going on about how cute he was.

"Well, now he has custody," Joanna told Quinn. "His ex is under arrest for the attempted murder of him and Zander Smith."

"Oh, so after all, it was just mistaken identity?"

"Looks like it. How do you not know your own ex-husband? Especially if you want to kill him. If I was going to try to kill Charlie, I wouldn't be shooting at other guys!"

"I guess Charlie had best be careful, then."

"You can bet on that!"

Now that Zander Smith was finally out of her hair, Quinn noticed that there was another, similar case. It was not nearly as severe, but it was a shadow of the same thing, as it were.

Elizabeth Webber had a boyfriend who came in every day; and who occasionally stayed above an hour. His parents had come in once, and a friend or two here and there. Still, she was alone a great deal of the time.

Like Zander, she appeared to have no parents and no other family. Quinn learned that her grandmother had once even been their head nurse, but she was retired now, and was with off doing some good work abroad, like Elizabeth's parents, who were physicians. Apparently Elizabeth did not choose to interrupt them at whatever they were doing to have them come back to attend to her now. This extended to her sister, who was said to be in medical school, also abroad.

So later that day, when Joe Quinn came in, he ended up reading poetry to Elizabeth.

Then Quinn stopped to see her on her way out for the day, as she sometimes had with Zander.

"Sorry for all that noise. AJ Quartermaine was showing off his son."

"Oh, that's great," Elizabeth said. "I suppose he got custody of him."

"Yeah, I suppose your best friend must be happy. Or unhappy. I'm too confused by her letter to Zander to tell. Did you let him read your letter?"

"Yes."

"You think she is OK with that?"

"She'll probably get upset with me if she finds out about it. Just seemed fairer to him, you know? He can get under your skin. I didn't feel well. I guess I'll be sorry, but with her, you never know. She may get really upset with me or it may never matter."

"A best friend that gets upset with you?"

"Yeah, I don't know, maybe Zander is right. She might have two more best friends at her college already. She's been upset with me before."

"What for?"

"I got back with Lucky instead of getting together with her brother."

"Man! Demanding little witch! Seems to think her brothers are the center of the universe! Oh, sorry."

"It's ok. You don't know her."

"Good thing! Sheesh! What are these incredible good qualities she had to make up for all that bossiness?"

"Well," Elizabeth, "Well, let's see. She's been through a lot."

"Oh, yes. Zander put her through a lot. Anybody else? Can't be her brothers."

"There's her sister, Skye, who is a lot older and yet competes with her, or something. There's Juan, I guess he put her through a lot. She was addicted to drugs once, and her friend died. Just a friend, but they were buddies, both taking the same drugs. Her father. Maybe I shouldn't tell you about him. You work here."

"Don't have to. I'm already convinced everybody has put her through a whole lot."

"I can see you might not like her."

"Not particularly. I guess I just felt sorry for Zander, so I took it from that view, you know? I know him and I don't know her. Natural. There are probably people out there I've never met who think I'm a jerk. Friends of my ex-boyfriend in Kentucky could. And I know Zander was in jail and all that. Not in a position to be picky. But she was. Very strange."

"You feel sorry for him, is that all?"

"Yeah, or it was. I guess I've been on his case so long he's like my little brother or something. He's finally gone out of ICU. Of course he could come up here to see you. But then he's not my problem. You can't imagine how much lighter my job just got!"


	50. Chapter 50

A couple of days later, Quinn had to go see Zander Smith as a follow up the ICU nurses always did when their patients were out of ICU but still in the hospital.

She found his room number, and knocked on the open door. He looked up. His eyes lit up when he recognized her.

"I'm here to post-check on you. How do you feel? You look pretty good."

"I feel a lot better. It's getting hard to just sit here."

"Any heart fluttering?"

"Not until I saw you."

"Flattery. OK, that means I can note down you're feeling really good."

"How are things up in the Intensive Care Unit?"

"Why, how kind of you to ask. Patients never ask that. Much quieter, thank you."

"If it's too quiet I can always come back."

"No, not because you need to. You could come visit Elizabeth, though."

"How is she?"

"Hanging in. She showed me her letter from little Emily. She knows Emily may get mad at her for showing it to you."

"That may be."

"Do the members of that family expect to control everybody in their lives?"

"Didn't think of it that way, but you're right. I guess she grew up spoiled. You know how rich people are."

"Sorry."

"I wasn't thinking of me."

"OK. What did you see in little Miss Emily?"

"Well, she helped me out. Don't forget - I was in jail."

"What did she do for you that Alexis couldn't do? Unlock the prison door with her own nail file?"

He had been going to say something. He tried, but he started laughing and couldn't stop. This set Quinn to giggling over her own comment.

"Well," he said, finally. "Nobody before had paid that much attention to me before. In my life. And no one has since."

"Awww," she said.

"Wait, I take it back. There is one person who has."

"Who?"

"You. It's just a different type of attention."

"How so?"

"She said she loved me. You investigate."

"She helped Alexis get you out of jail. I helped Alexis dig up your parents. It may not be romantic, but Alexis and I might have saved your life."

"Poor Emily."

"Poor Emily indeed! Poor thing. Other people have put her through so much."

"But I didn't want to get you on her side. You're the only one I know who is on my side of this. Everyone else just feels bad for lit- for Emily. But I kind of like having my own supporter – it is a new experience."

"There are a few others who might be on your side."

"If you're talking about my family, then still – you're the only one on my side who has any sense. The only Irish one."

Quinn laughed. "Thank you. I guess the red robe doesn't have a chance," she added, patting his green lapel, "and Peter picked it himself!"

"He hasn't noticed. Don't remind him, OK? I'm superstitious. I need Irish luck, not Russian."

"I was reading the chart about your family history. It's sad. Take the Irish - they had to leave Ireland because of the famine, and it was generations ago. And they always blame it on the English. You know, the English have been cruel, and so on. Their color is red too. But this is only two generations ago and they didn't leave, they got killed or imprisoned. And their own fellow countrymen did it."

"I guess it really is true. I never believed him. – I mean, I never believed Sergei. I think I just didn't want to. It's creepy. It bugs me, and I don't know why."

"I can understand why it could bug you. Most people know their grandfathers. If they didn't, their parents knew them, and can tell about them. But this - somehow it cuts you off, as if you come from nowhere."

"It's worse for Sergei, though. At least I know him."

"Did you talk to him yet?"

"I'm thinking about it."

"Good. Take your time."


	51. Chapter 51

"You have all this pity for Zander, but what about Emily?" Lucky Spencer asked Quinn, as she took Elizabeth Webber's blood pressure. "After all he put her through, I mean, she can't even tell her best friends where she's going to school. And if she found out about this shooting, it would ruin her freshman year."

"Zander didn't shoot himself," Elizabeth argued.

"Zander gets himself into trouble," Lucky waved his hand as if to push that consideration aside. "He always manages to be where it finds him."

"This shooting was directed at Emily's brother, though," Quinn said. "Isn't her family going to tell her about that? Of all that she's suffered, having someone try to murder her brother is at the top of the list, in my book. She's devoted to this brother, she fights with her own boyfriend over him. I would think someone should tell her about that, even if it does disturb her freshman year. If my brother were in the hospital, I would have come back even the first week of my freshman year. I would have tried to salvage my first semester, but I would have come back. If my boyfriend at the time had been in a hospital because he'd been shot, even if it was his fault somehow, I would want to know. I'm certain my family and his would have told me about such a thing, though, so I'm not sure what I would do where they'd keep it a secret. Still, I'd know something was wrong. If the injury was so severe I felt I couldn't go back to school after about 2 weeks, I'd have transferred to PCU. Which I would have been happy to do, if the case were that bad. I wouldn't considered my year of school 'wrecked.'"

"You don't seem to have much sympathy for Emily," Lucky said. "Strange for a nurse not to have sympathy. Hope she doesn't end up in the hospital here."

"I would, but there just seems to be plenty of that going around. A lot of people have sympathy for her, so it's no skin off her nose to have mine spared for Zander, so to speak."

"But why would anyone have sympathy for Zander?" Lucky then asked. "He's the reason Emily's been through so much."

"He's been through a lot himself. You don't know about it, but hasn't it occurred to you his life might not have been simple? I don't see any reason to have a contest about who has it worse, but the world has enough people in it for him to have a friend or two, no? Especially among those who know him and do not know her."

"I'm just giving you a friendly warning, is all. You could get taken in, too. I even see you are getting taken in. Alexis has. Emily was. The Quartermaines had a lot of grief. Juan and even my brother Nicholas and I had a lot of problems because of Zander. If you knew the half of it, you'd understand."

"I'm curious what he did to her, but I'm sure you don't have time to tell about it all. I appreciate the warning. He must have done something right, though. Otherwise, why did she love him?"

"That's the mystery," Lucky answered.

"Yes, there must be something he did right," Elizabeth said, smiling to herself, and then looking at Quinn was a conspiratorial grin of understanding, which amused Quinn greatly.


	52. Chapter 52

Alexis came to Zander's new room. She hugged him and then sat down.

"I feel like Pandora must have felt!" she said.

"You couldn't do anything else," he said to her. "I'll always be grateful. You saved my life again. I have no idea why, but you insist on helping me. You must be crazy, but I'll just say thank you, and, if I can ever do anything for you, just name it."

"I'm no crazier than you," she said, laughing. "One thing you could do for me; tell me what do you think about Sergei. He took an EKG as Monica wanted. We talked and he decided he'd stay long enough for you to decide if you want to talk to him or not. Totally up to you. No pressure. If you don't, he's going to stay in touch with me, so that you have the option to get in touch with him if you want."

"Do you think he's actually following these legal rules, or does he have some trick up his sleeve?"

"Before he came to my office, we had a conference call with his lawyer in Florida – who has advised him, since his release, of what can happen to him if he fails to follow the order. He's listened to that advice up to now. Monica wanted him to come up here, and I confirmed that with her. Then he came to my office. He wanted to hire me to help him to steer clear, and stay out of trouble with the no contact orders on both you and Peter. So when we ran into each other," she grimaced, "it was just as I said. I was trying to keep him clear of everybody, and that was just an accident. You saw what he did with Peter, right? He didn't try to talk him into anything."

"Yes. He said nothing to Oksana, too, which he must have had a hard time resisting. But I'm just afraid to believe him. You saw how Pete was, too. If he gets Pete to go off with him, that's even more upheaval to Pete. She's already – Oksana is already moving him up here. She couldn't just go back to Florida! Not her! She could have done all this without coming up here. But now she's done with it all, and she could go back and take Pete back. She's wasting her time and just changing Pete's school and his whole life for no reason."

"It could be she's moving him so he'll be near you."

"He doesn't need to be near me. He needs to be where he's been for the past four years. Look, Alexis, I know it was wrong to put him through not knowing where I was. I just didn't think of all that at the time. Now that problem is solved. He knows where I am and he can call me any time."

"It's not the same. Leave it up to him. And Oksana could never had found out where you were without coming to see you. I get that, and I'm not even a mother."

"Not yet, anyway."

Alexis smiled. She reached over and smoothed his hair off of his forehead. "I don't think Sergei wants to take Peter away."

"If he leaves the country, none of that legal stuff matters."

"Now he knows he'd be arrested on his return, so he'd be exiled. And Pete could just up and leave him again. He wouldn't see you at all that way. He's a guy who can figure out what risks are worth taking most of the time. The wrong ones end in disaster sometimes, but he doesn't always make the wrong decision. Like someone else I know. Look at it this way – he can't have sway over both his sons or get his relationship back to normal with both in the foreseeable future. He only has the option of doing that one at a time, you first. Which one imposes the least risk on him? No exile from America? No jail time? You."

"I suppose."

"How about he stays another week or so? That gives you a little time to see if you want to talk to him while he's here."

Zander looked down. "OK," he sighed.


	53. Chapter 53

**Part 53**

Rosa came in with a bag. "See, these are your four birthday presents. Seventeenth birthday," she took a gift wrapped box out of the bag on put it on his bed, "Eighteen," she took out another, "Nineteen, twenty," She folded up her bag and put it down.

"I didn't get you anything for your – your 29th birthday."

She laughed and patted his arm. "You remember! You had too much else to worry about, though. I don't expect you to get me a present for that 29th birthday, or the next 29th birthday, or the next one. My next 29th birthday is already taken care of; I have you back."

He smiled.

"Well," she said, poking one of the presents.

He looked reluctant, but he took it and started to open it up. "A tie," he said. "Green, too. You thought I was already an executive by then?"

"Of course," she laughed. Eighteen was a pair of socks, nineteen was a T-shirt declaring Miami to be heaven, and Twenty was a framed photo of Rosa and Pete at what looked like a backyard barbecue.

"You're the best," he said, and hugged her.

"Well, I'll let you get some rest now," she said, getting up.

"Rosa –"

She turned for a minute.

"I'm sorry I let you worry about me."

She came back and hugged him again.

"I didn't think," he said.

"Forget it - it is all bygones now," she said.

When Zander was released, Alexis wanted him to go back to her penthouse apartment. She explained that Rosa was staying in his room at Jake's. 

They went back to the room to get his clothes and other stuff. He resisted awhile, saying Rosa should go stay with Alexis, but Rosa wanted him to go to Alexis' and, as Alexis observed, Rosa had more influence with Zander than anyone else.

Zander went to Alexis' office with her the next day. He didn't want to take any more days off, saying he'd be jumpy just staying at her place. She took him to the office and said he could stay half a day.

She showed him how to do a couple of things, and how to write notes to her about specific files in the computer.

He saw a lot of Emily's entries in these files. He felt a little sad, because in a lot of ways those days had been carefree. They were gone, though. They couldn't even have gone on. Nurse Question had a point. He couldn't have gone on, year after year as Zander Smith who had no prior existence.

It felt as if those days occurred to someone else; a rather one-dimensional and shadowy individual who had tried to stick with just the present and the immediate future, as though he had been born yesterday.

In the later afternoon, Alexis called someone on the phone and invited them over. About a half hour later, Joe Quinn came into Alexis office with Peter and Tim in his wake and inviting him to go to the racetrack with them.

It was a strange place to be. He'd only been there before a few times. Then he had been making drug deals.

They watched people doing time trials; Joe got them hot dogs. They just sat in the bleachers. Zander felt like a child again.

Later they went down to the pits to show Zander Joe's car. They hoisted it up and looked under the engine and discussed its good and bad points. It had been such a long time since Zander had worked on a car like that. There were some things that had changed. He remember some of the guys who worked in the pits at Daytona, and asked Peter if he could remember them, but Peter had just been too young and couldn't. Zander could recall working on cars – he wondered how much help he had really been. Sergei and the others used to have him convinced that he contributed something useful.

"If we replace all those plugs," Tim opined, "then it'll be ready for Quinn to drive."

"I thought you retired," Zander smiled as he said this to Joe.

"Oh, I did," Joe said. "She carries it on for me."

"Like your name, too," Peter grinned.

Zander looked at Joe, confused. Joe said, looking sheepishly modest: "It's my goddaughter. Danny insisted he would name her after me, because, he said, for all he knew he'd only have girls. She was Josephine for half a day, then they realized I was "Joe" and they would end up calling her "Jo" and he wouldn't be getting rid of me for awhile, and since I would be around, our having the same name would be confusing. So Danny came up with the brainstorm to use my last name."

"See, he's not driving, Sander, Quinn is," Peter said. "Q., Zander. Nurse Question."

Zander looked off, smiling a little. "Quinn," he repeated, "that fits perfectly."


	54. Chapter 54

**Part 54**

Joe took them back to the Connors' house for dinner. "That's Brad," Joe told Zander, of a boy in his early teens, who was playing basketball in the driveway.

In the back yard, a man was watering the lawn. "That's Danny," Joe told him.

They went in the back door.

Kathleen was working on dinner.

"Can I help?" Peter asked.

"Help by getting yourself and all of them out from underfoot," she said with a smile.

In the hallway, there were a lot of photographs on the walls. Zander lingered there, looking at them. "That's the wedding photo," Pete said to Zander. "Mr. and Mrs. Connor."

"I can see that," Zander answered.

"This is Joe," Peter pointed to a larger version of Quinn's desk photo.

"I know."

"This is Q's prom picture," Peter pointed to a picture that was obviously one of those prom pictures. "This is Q's high school graduation, and this is her nursing school graduation." He went over to the next row, "this is Joe holding a baby Q., this is Q at about 10 holding a baby Brad, and Tim is the one sitting on her right. Here she is when she's about 3, with her grandparents; those are Mr. Connor's folks. This is the whole family when she was 16, so Tim is about 9 and Brad is about 6. See, Brad has no teeth," he continued, as if he were trying to prove Brad's age to a jury."

"Are you licensed as a tour guide?"

"Yes," Peter said, going along. "Any questions? Just ask."

They had spaghetti for dinner. Zander realized Q. was not coming. "Where's Q?" he asked. "Quinn, I mean."

"She's got her own apartment," Peter explained.

"Are you the family spokesman?"

"He is," Danny said. "He's a good one." 

Joe Quinn smiled.

Later, Peter showed Zander around the house, as if it were a mansion, though it was a rather medium sized house. He showed Zander upstairs, where there was one bathroom, a master bedroom, another bedroom with two beds, belonging to Tim and Brad, and another one with one bed, obviously belonging to Quinn, though it was apparently now designated "the guest room." Tim either never succeeded in getting it for himself or had never tried.

Peter had this room. It wasn't too girlish. The colors were neutral, and though the bureaus were white, they were straight edged and didn't have a lot of girls' junk sitting on them, at least, not anymore. There was a bookcase, where Zander saw 4 volumes of the Mercy High School Yearbook and 4 volumes of the Notre Dame Yearbook.

There was a frame on the wall; one of those frames in which you can put a lot of different photos. Zander looked at these, and Peter came over, even able to lecture on this. "This is Atlantic City, or Ocean City, when Q is in her teens, this is the guy in her prom photo with her; she went out with him in high school and part of her freshman year at Notre Dame. That one where she is sitting on a stone wall is on the campus of Notre Dame, and that guy is Sean, who is a law student now, in Kentucky. That is them at the Kentucky Derby, and here they are outside the capital building of Kentucky. This is some party, and those girls are friends of hers from Mercy High School. Then over here," Peter went to the other side of the room and showed Zander a framed picture of an entire cheerleading squad, whose jerseys proved they were the Mercy High School Cheerleading Squad. Peter dared him to pick Q. out of this group, which Zander was able to do fairly easily.

"How did you learn all this stuff?" he asked.

"Everybody," Peter answered. "Mrs. Connor especially, when they've been in here talking to me."

Peter then showed Zander his books for the year. There was Algebra, Psychology, Religion, Russian ("cheater," Zander said), Chemistry, English Literature, World History, and a book called "Real Life Economics." This latter purported to teach the student how to open and checking account and take out a mortgage and other such actions of the adult and mature person in an advanced economy.

Pete fell silent a second looking at one section of this book. Zander sat next to him, and looked absently at the page, and heard the sound of laughter and conversation coming from downstairs.


	55. Chapter 55

**Part 55**

Alexis liked to run in the park when she could, when the weather was fine and she didn't have to be at court at an early hour. The park was a block from her penthouse, and she just ran there from home. This morning, she left Zander there still asleep.

Other runners were abroad at this hour, and she said hello to those who passed, calling them by name if she knew them. Then she passed one she knew but had not seen here before; it was Sergei.

"Hi," she said, "I see you've found the best place for a run." She stopped, and he turned back to go in her direction, just falling in with her.

"Yeah, it's a nice little place," he said. "I know Peter's not going to be here, but I still look out."

"What a situation," Alexis said. "Sad. What of your ex?"

"She don't run, happily. I just see her in the elevator every once in awhile."

"And you both lived?"

"Yeah. I haven't seen her before this, in about 3-4 years, and now she doesn't really piss me off completely. Just a little. I think I can manage if I say nothing to her. She say nothing to me. That's good. Just look and then look away."

"How long were you married for, anyway."

"Let's see. Married 12 years."

"Are you bored staying here?"

"Not too bad. I went down to the speedway and help the guys work on the cars. There's the family Peter was with bringing him down there now and then, so I gotta watch it, though."

"I have an idea," Alexis said.

She ran back to her apartment and ran into the shower.

When she came down, Zander was up. He was wearing his green tie; and he had made the coffee.

"Did you say you worked on cars with your father, or something like that?"

"Sometimes. He took me and Pete to the tracks and went off did did stuff. Every once in awhile he showed me how to do something. He knew how to work on them. Really liked it. It was like a hobby he had."

"He's been going down to the race track here, just for something to do."

"He should stop, or Pete can't go."

"He knows it. He said he watches out for them, but so he can get out of the way."

"He doesn't just not go there when he knows Pete could show up there. Tells you something, doesn't it?"

"If you talk to him, wouldn't that sort of distract him from Pete? Take away his motive. I don't think he's going to do anything drastic. Remember what I was saying when you were still in the hospital? You're less dangerous. If Sergei can talk to you, he's talking to one of his sons. He feels like he's getting somewhere. So don't bother with Pete until its straightened out or Pete just turns 18."

"He could think that talking to one son breaks the ground to talk to the other. That could get him bolder in thinking he can talk to Pete, and he already knows from the hospital Pete is not hostile to him."

"I don't know how this divorce stuff was, but when I've dealt with clients, they worry, you know, that the other parent is filling the kid's head with bad news about them. It's 'He's poisoning the kids against me,' or 'She's poisoning the kids against me.' Pete's not hostile. He saw that. He doesn't have a motive to get Pete away to avoid this poisoning."

"I'm afraid. I don't know what I'll do. What if he tries talking me into helping him get to Pete?"

"You know not to agree!"

"I'm afraid he'll come up with something I never thought of before, that will sound so reasonable, and it will sound so unfair to him if I don't help him."

"Boy," Alexis said, "You've been put through the wringer in the past, I can see that. I'll stay with you every second. As soon as he does anything like that, he's history. I'll tell him that ahead of time."

"You're in favor of me talking to him."

"I guess so. You need your parents. Such as they are. Hard for you to deal with, but you've got to deal with them, one way or another. There're not dead. They'll always be out there ready to plunge."

"Yours are dead," he said.

"I'm not trying to make you feel guilty. Really. I have no way of knowing if mine wouldn't have been just as bad. They were Russians, you know that?"

"No."

"Maybe they were just as bad, if I'd known them."

"Most of the Russians are really affectionate parents. In general. None of my friends in school had these problems. For that matter, Pete and I didn't. Sergei was OK then. Those two could not get along. So it had to be all one or the other."

"When the judges asked you what you wanted, what did you say?"

"I forget. I think what Oksana wanted me to, or what I thought she wanted me to. I don't mean she said, 'Say this or that,' but I knew her attitude. I remember being really mad at him for leaving us. She left him, but we did not see him for so long after that, it seemed like he had been the one to leave."

"Oksana didn't correct that impression."

"No."

"Did she say he didn't care about you, or that if he did care about you, he'd be there?"

"No. She didn't have to, I guess. As long as she didn't correct the impression, that's just how it seemed. Then when I realized that she was the one who made it hard for him to find us, I was mad at her. And I always feel really awful about being mad at her. Like it's a terrible thing to do to her."

"Would you go and talk to a counselor about this? I want you to. It'll help you."

"Anything for you."


	56. Chapter 56

**Part 56**

Alexis told Zander to go home in the mid-afternoon. He walked through the park, then decided to go see Elizabeth.

"This place looks different after you get out of it," Zander told Elizabeth. She was sitting up, looking a lot better, and drawing on a pad of paper. 

"Does it look better, or worse?"

"Better, I guess. Because you know you can leave."

"How is work going? You look nice and professional. I like that green tie."

"Oh," he said. "Thank you. It's going fine. My boss is so kind. She is more worried about my health than about the work. Oh, and there's no gun violence in that office."

"That's always a good thing in a job," Elizabeth agreed with a smile. "Sit still. I'm drawing you now."

He sat still for a minute or two. He folded his hands. He twiddled his thumbs.

"No nurses bugging you," he said, looking around the room.

Elizabeth looked around the room. "Doesn't look like it," she said. "Here," she took another pad from the side of her bed. "This will make you realize how long you were here."

Zander opened this sketch pad. Elizabeth had drawn sketches of people. He didn't know the first two, but then recognized Lucky.

"There must be more drawings of Lucky Spencer than of any other being in the universe," Zander said.

"I've got him down. I'm branching out," she answered.

The next was Nicholas Cassidine; then Jason Quartermaine; Dr. Jones; Terri Hayes. "You're good," he complimented Elizabeth, "I recognize all of them." He turned a page. "Joe Quinn!" he smiled. "Really looks like him!" 

"Thanks," she said. "Keep looking, you have one more page."

"Huh?" he turned the next. This sketch was of Quinn standing at the edge of the bed, reading a chart, with a braid of hair falling forward.

"This is very life-like," he said, looking at it. "It is a sight you see over and over while you're here."

"You won't see it now," Elizabeth said, looking at him as a subject, drawing. "Quinn's on the midnight shift."

"Then you better be a good little patient. Quinn hates midnights." 

In the morning, toward the end of midnight shift, Quinn checked on Elizabeth. Before leaving, she stopped at minute to look at Elizabeth's sketches.

"You're getting Dr. Jones down better and better all the time," Quinn observed. "Your Joe Quinn was good from the start."

"There's some newer ones at the back," Elizabeth said.

Quinn looked. "Zander Smith, in a tie," she said. "This is good – just out of your head?"

"Not entirely. He was here this afternoon."

"I thought it had to be from your imagination, with a tie," Quinn laughed.

"Nope. He had it on."

"You've captured something here," Quinn said. "Some sort of attitude."

"He liked yours. The one from at the end of the bed, reading the chart."

Quinn was still looking at Zander's. She looked up. "You ought to have an art show, someday," she said.

Elizabeth smiled. "Thank you. It'll be worth your coming, Quinn. I'll put my Zander sketch in it."

Quinn made a face, and went out.

Zander felt nervous, walking along the edge of the bleachers at the speedway. He watched a car that was out, waiting for the roar of the engine each time it came around the nearest curve. He had come with Alexis, and she had worked it out – asked Joe Quinn to meet up with Sergei in the pits and keep track of him, so he didn't just run into Zander, and to give Alexis a chance to lecture him first. She was on that mission now, and Zander waited.

The car was slowing into the pit at the end. The driver got out and took off a helmet, then shook out a head of long hair. She wore jeans and a T-shirt and he had only ever seen her wearing scrubs. And her hair was always up or in a braid. But he recognized her at once. "Quinn," he called to her.

She smiled. "You look good in real clothes!" She laughed as she walked across the track.

"I just thought the same about you."

"You learned my name."

"From Joe, when we were looking at that car the other day. He told me the story. He's here."

"He is? I didn't see him. I just came down on my way home from work."

"Elizabeth said you were on midnights."

"How's work going?"

"Good."

"Must be a great job if you can hang out here."

"No, Quinn, this is another crisis."

"What's that?"

"You're probably tired of this stuff."

"No, I'm not. What crisis?"

"I agreed to talk to Sergei. Alexis wants me to wait while she goes and gets him. She wants to read him a riot act first. Make rules about what he can't say. Joe's here because she wanted him to help. I don't know what he's supposed to do. Pick me up if I fall apart or head off some sort of Sergei-induced disaster."

"You're making light of it," she said. "But it's not."

"I almost feel sick," he admitted.

"I'll stay," she said.

"It's your time off, Quinn. Don't do that."

"Not up to you." She sat next to him on the bleacher.

"I feel like I'm calling you by your last name."

She laughed. "You can still use Question if you want."

"No, I'll get used to it. It's a really nice name. The best kind."

Alexis summed up the things Zander was worried about, and told Sergei that she wouldn't tolerate his aggravating any of those issues. Sergei agreed. "I'm not gonna go after Pete," he said, waiving his hands as if the idea were the greatest bore in the world.

"Don't bring it up," Alexis said. "And nothing against his mother. No trying to persuade him to do anything regarding his brother. In fact, you'd be better off listening rather than talking."

"I'm not gonna do anything like that," Sergei said. "I get it, OK?"

"There's a reason he's so stuck on it," Alexis said.

"Yeah, I know it. I don't wanna do anything of all that past. No past. Not the same old stuff. I know he's not gonna believe that 'til he sees it."

Alexis went back to Zander. She smiled when she saw Quinn. "Hi! How did you come to be here?"

"I just came to run one of the cars. I saw Zander, now I'm staying here for moral support. To help head off Sergei-induced disasters."

"What more could you ask?" Alexis put a hand on Zander's shoulder. "Your experienced nurse. Experienced in parent-induced disasters."

"One Oksana-induced one under my belt."

"I'm trying to laugh," he said, but he put a hand over Alexis' She took this hand and walked him down to the pit. They didn't talk. The track was eerily quiet. Quinn followed, hanging back a little.

"Here," Joe was saying, loudly, so Zander would have a warning, "watch all that stuff."

Sergei stopped, and looked at Zander. "Hey," he said. "I'm glad you come, my boy. I'm not gonna do anything dumb, I promised Alexis. I promise you. Don't worry."

"Dad?" Zander said. His eyes were wide open, and he looked about 9 years old, like a kid choking back tears. Not angry. Like he was a small boy caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do.

Alexis wanted to go to him, but had a hunch she would do better to let it be, long enough to see if Sergei would be able to comfort him.

Sergei went over to Zander and hugged him. Zander didn't move away or make any defiant gesture.

"You're gonna be all right," Sergei said. "I'm only gonna help you, now on. See? Sit down. Tell me what happened while you were gone. I won't say things, you talk, I listen." He went on in this soothing tone, but he switched over to Russian.

Alexis panicked a moment, but Zander was just nodding, and looking down, miserably but not angrily. Alexis didn't trust her high school and college Russian to be able to follow a conversation between native speakers. She was on edge, ready to protest, only able to rely on the tone of voice, and wondering if Sergei had tricked her or had only fallen back on his native language under the stress of the moment.

Sergei walked with Zander back to the bench at the back of the pit. Alexis and Joe and Quinn stayed; Alexis' plan to monitor every word of Sergei's crashed.

Sergei had his arm around Zander, who just sat there looking down, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand or just nodding at Sergei's words.

"I was expecting something different," Quinn said in a low voice.

"Me too," Alexis said. "I'm stumped. I don't know whether to demand he speak English or just interrupt, but I don't want to interrupt if he's getting anywhere towards healing the breach."

"He seems to have the same attitude toward both parents when he talks about them. Yet his reaction is so different!"

"I think it's OK," Joe said. "And a good thing he doesn't have to yell at this one."

"You said he and Oksana were alike, Alexis," Quinn said.

"That's probably it," Alexis said. "Yeah, it's harder to deal with someone who is like you."

"What would Oksana think?"

"Oh boy," Alexis answered her, "I don't think she'd like this scene one little bit."

Eventually, Zander seemed to be doing some of the talking. Sergei's demeanor didn't change. He listened, he said something brief, put his arm around Zander again, and sounded conciliatory or soothing. He pointed out a car that had started going by on the track. Zander looked up at the car. Sergei said something else, seeing the strange little observer-trio standing a little way off, and they both got up and came over.

"You messed me up," Alexis said. "My Russian is too rusty."

"Uh, oh," said Sergei. "You're not mad at me?"

"That depends," she said, looking sidewise at Zander.

"It's ok," Zander said, breathing a sigh.

"Let's go over to the Outback," Alexis said. "I want to get you a long, tall whiskey and soda," she said to Zander. "Come on, no declining allowed. Sergei, come along."

"You want me to come along?" Sergei said to his son. "I can stay put and come back later if you want."

"No, Dad, come along," Zander said.


	57. Chapter 57

**Part 57**

Joe saw the obvious; he could easily invite the father and son to the track to work on the car and just hang around himself. The mere presence of a third party could help the son feel more secure. The more time he spent with his father without anything he considered an attempt at manipulation, the closer he would be to feeling like it was a normal father and son relationship.

Though Joe realized "normal" could never completely apply here. It probably never had. At Kelly's one morning, he told Alexis about the conversation that took place as the three of them worked on connecting rods.

It had come to light, to Joe's observation, that one of Zander's main troubles actually was feeling ashamed of having been involved in drug dealing and not wanting his parents to know about it.

"I even think," Joe said, "had he avoided that somehow, he might well have gone home. Once he was in it, had been arrested, and had a record, he didn't want to face his mother or his brother. His father he could have dealt with maybe, but only his father would have had to have been the one to find him."

"When I first represented Zander," Alexis replied, "He was so just plain flat out, adamantly, not going to contact his family for help. In hindsight, how easy it would have been. I think you may very well be right."

"Even from prison, his dad could have helped with that. Hiring a lawyer and whatever else he needed."

"True. Do you think Sergei sees what you're seeing?"

"Well, one way or another, I think he does – I think he was trying to get Zander over it by claiming to be in no place to judge – he's been in jail, he crossed the line of violating the law. Kind of an attempt at bonding a little! Like father, like son, we have this problem, we end up in trouble with the law! He started comparing experience with Zander. Almost a funny conversation if you look at it from a certain angle. Handcuffs, ankle cuffs, slamming doors, crazy guards, nutty cell mates. Sergei told us what other guys who were in prison with him where there for. Tax evasion mostly; it was that kind of prison. But other interesting things you don't often think about. Like hiring too many illegal aliens, catching too many lobsters, selling phony stocks and bonds."

"You think they're getting along somewhat, then."

"Yes. That was a brilliant idea of yours. They both like the speedway and the cars and racing. So it's easy to get a conversation going about something to do with that. Then once they talk about that stuff, it gets easier to talk about something else, and so on."

Alexis stayed after Joe left, looking at a few files. She had sent Zander to the courthouse to make a file and copy a case out of the law library, and was waiting for him. A few days before, she had been tired and aggravated after getting stuck in traffic on the way to a deposition – she had needed the time to look over the file beforehand, and the traffic jam sucked it all up. This kind of thing happened frequently, and now that she had Zander around, she had someone to complain to about it all. That was the biggest difference between her two employees Zander and Emily – Emily would have started looking at her funny and wanting to know what was the next job for her, whereas Zander just listened.

A few days ago, Zander was arguing to Alexis that he should drive her to depositions and the court. At first Alexis thought it would be an inefficient use of time, because they'd both be wasting time in traffic rather than getting anything else done. He countered that if he drove her, she could read files or call people while she was in the car. What she paid him was more consistent with driving than what her time was worth.

Finding this persuasive, she had agreed to try it. It not only worked, it improved her whole outlook. Simply not having driven was lowering her stress level. Driving, traffic, parking, and finding a route had sapped more mental energy than she had ever realized. This saved energy could now be applied to other things, and therefore, she did a better job on those things.

She read the file she had been to court on that morning, making all the notes she would have had to wait until she had driven back to the office to make. Once there, 10 other things might have been distracted her, and she might then not have gotten to it until a time when her memory wasn't fresh any longer. Or never, and then, the next time she looked at the file, she would hardly remember what had happened in court today at all.

When she had finished, she looked up and saw Oksana and another woman at another table.

She went over, deciding it was a good time to check up on Oksana's activities.

The woman was Kathleen Connor. Alexis shook hands with her cordially. Oksana explained that they were looking at Aleksander's school records.

"We figure there has to be a way to deal with this," Kathleen said. "Sit down - please," she said, with a friendly tone.

"I will try to make it up to him," Oksana said. "Like the books you gave me say, I overburden him. His father overburden him even worse. He's so mad about this, his education. He ran away is what is wrong with it. Without that, his education was the best. But even to today, he still will not understand. He's so convinced that he could only finish that in Russia."

"Crazy," Alexis said, humoring her. "Let's see if we can convince him otherwise. If not, I'll take him to Russia and enroll him in school there myself."

"Not going to be necessary, I'm sure," Kathleen said, smiling.

"So you've got all the records?"

"Everything," Kathleen said. "Amazing, considering a foreign country is involved. But that's all translated. Oksana worked hard on this, and it's all together."

"Where would he start?" Alexis said.

"That's the question," Kathleen said. "Oksana says spare no expense. This project is a teacher's dream! We're going to get a tutor and maybe use the home schooling standards."

"That's a great idea!" Alexis said. "Right! Of course there must be standards for that. And Nicholas, my nephew, had tutors. Right here in Port Charles. I bet I can help you find whoever you need."

"Have a look," she said, pushing the records over to Alexis with a look that got Alexis feeling like Kathleen knew Alexis was likely to understand some things that Oksana did not.

There was Ocean View Academy, where Zander had been from first grade through half of sixth. It looked expensive. Zander's grades were average and below average. Every teacher, almost to a man or woman, thought he had Attention Deficit Disorder and it ought to be treated, and it was clear from these records that Oksana thought that was baloney. One teacher even defensively noted she knew ADD was over-diagnosed, but that it would not be so in the most extreme cases, and this was the textbook case, and the most obvious and extreme case the teacher had ever seen.

Sergei didn't seem to be involved at all.

"ADD with no hyperactivity," Alexis said to Kathleen. "So we couldn't say these teachers just want to get rid of a discipline problem by medicating it away."

"And it's a private school," Kathleen pointed out, very reasonably. "In a public school, you could make a good argument that they do that, but they don't have a motive in a private school. They can just expel students who disrupt the class too much. And he was not much of a discipline problem anyway. The ones that aren't hyperactive usually aren't, which is why they miss diagnosing it in public school a lot of the time. The teachers at this Ocean View are top-notch - heck, with that climate, they probably draw the best of the best. Which explains why they didn't miss it."

Next there was Fordham School, a private school Zander had been at for the last half of sixth grade, seventh and half of eighth. "Why did he go here instead of continuing at the Ocean View one?"

"When we moved, when we got the divorce, I moved them there," Oksana said. "I had friends that said it was a better school for going into Daytona Prep."

Alexis read over these quickly, and they were much the same, and made the same assertions about Zander. There were notes on the police coming to check to see if Aleksander and Peter were in school, because their father had not brought them home in compliance with the custody order, and they might be missing. This happened every other Monday for awhile, and then became so routine that the cops seemed to be making their check every other Monday morning as a matter of course, unasked. There were similar notations for several Thursdays. But for the first day back after Christmas vacation of Zander's eighth grade year, there were notes that both boys were missing and that it was not a false alarm this time. Some of the teachers had made personal efforts to find the boys, and one was so upset she was sent into counseling herself.

Those from the school in Russia were really strange. They said nothing about ADD, and Zander's grades were positively excellent. Alexis frowned. There wasn't even a hint that he had difficulty adjusting to the new system or the language. In fact, one teacher mentioned how helpful Zander was to the other students in their class of English, to them a foreign language. This individual, Arkady Petrovich Nikiforov, wrote that he thought Zander would make a wonderful teacher.

Then there were some sketchy records from Daytona Prep. They could be summarized as evidence that no one at this fancy and expensive private school had known what to do with Zander when Oksana brought him to them. They couldn't decide if he was a junior or a sophomore. According to the notes, Oksana seemed to be willing to leave it to whatever they eventually decided, and Zander, now old enough to be a factor, insisted he was a senior. All of the Russian records and their translations were there, but had apparently been disregarded as practically meaningless to the staff at Daytona Prep.

"You see this Russian school," Kathleen said to Alexis, "has just the basics. The students don't have choices or electives or anything. It is all rigidly set out. Say what you want about that, in Zander's case it was a good thing. I think that's why this ADD appears to disappear, like magic. No distractions. Just go to class and do your homework. They don't even have sports in this school."

"Sergei says Zander was in a lot of sports," Alexis said.

"They have it, just that it has nothing to do with the schools," Oksana explained. "It's all after school, and someplace else. The kids just go and join the league."

"Not a bad way to do it," Kathleen mused. "Anyway, Alexis, when I talked to Zander about this, he is still, to this day, totally adamant that he is a senior." Alexis smiled. Kathleen went on: "He has a point. They go to school six days a week - adding up that extra number of days over 11 years and they go to school for about as many days as we do here in 12 years. I think it helped Zander, because continuity is better for one with ADD. I wonder if they think anyone has ADD in that country. I could see where this system may have certain features that minimize that." 

"Yeah, less time to forget," Alexis grinned. "Maybe I'll put him in the office fewer hours each day, and some on Saturday."

"Then, there is the basic nature of the subjects," Kathleen said. "These people at Daytona Prep were focused on what he did not have, but he did have the math and science and was even ahead there, in theory, for number of credits. History - It was only American history he was missing. He had this Ancient history and World history a lot of American students never get. He had Russian history that no American student ever gets, but they ignored it too much. It could still have been counted as an elective, even if that school didn't have that particular course."

"When it comes to an elective, yeah, what's the difference," Alexis agreed. "Daytona Prep or any Prep could have 'Russian History' to count that way."

"Right. As Zander so contemptuously says, they counted it against him that he had not taken metal shop or basket weaving or as he puts it, 'Junk 101.'"

Alexis laughed.

"Now you get credits in foreign languages," Kathleen went on, "there's got to be a way to let him just get those! They analyzed this as if actually knowing a foreign language should count for nothing. Take a course and know a little of it, and you get a credit! Actually know it, and you can't get a credit! They should have known of some way to give him a test and just give him credit."

"Like those tests you can take to place out of college classes," Alexis said.

"Exactly. Then when it comes to 'English' as we know it, of course he didn't have that. Still, he's learning all the grammar in the class where, for them, it's a foreign language! Same thing, he ought to be able to test out of it. This particularly infuriates him."

Alexis laughed. "Maybe that Arkady is right! It's Zander's natural calling, and that's why he's so opinionated!"

"Sixteen years old, and he's arguing with them like they're his colleagues," Kathleen said, laughing, too. "He doesn't need 'gym' or 'health' or 'metal shop,' - he is right when he maintains that 'Junk 101' is not necessary! If he ever becomes a teacher, he's going to upset the establishment and reform the whole system!"

"But why not just go?" Oksana said. "So you've got two years rather than one. At his age, he would have, anyway. If he had never gone over there, he would have been a junior that same year. Even had they made him a sophomore, then still, he's close enough in age to the other students that it does not look so bad. Probably some of those sophomores were also 16 already. A lot of kids get held back in an early year. What's the rush?"

"I don't know," Alexis said. "Maybe at 13 you can adjust to a new system, but at 16 it's much tougher. I could understand that."

"His grades were bad in one system and good in the other," Kathleen added. "No wonder he preferred the system where he'd been successful."

"I wish I had thought of that then," Oksana said. "I could have gotten him a tutor. That might have convinced him to stay put. I never thought of it. School is more than that, though. There's sports, and friends and dates, all that comes with the school, in America."

Alexis has been absorbed in the conversation and forgot all about her employee, who had just come into Kelly's for her. She saw him come in and look around. She got up almost instinctively and went to him. She'd at least give him an option on whether or not he wanted to run into Oksana just now.

But Kathleen waved to him and acted as if there was nothing unusual about running into one's mother at a coffee shop. "Come in, sweetie," she said, "we're talking about something important to you."

Alexis walked back with him. He smiled at Kathleen, and just looked at Oksana.

Alexis had been sitting next to Kathleen, and this left Zander to sit across from her and next to Oksana.

"We've got all your school records, here," Kathleen said, "even from Russia."

"Thank you for looking at all that," he said. "It's such a mess. There are so many rules about going from one school level to the next." 

Oksana sighed loudly and rolled her eyes heavenward.

"I'm over 18, and it's not your problem," he shot at her.

She turned her eyes towards him without turning her head. "I screw it up for you. OK. Let me fix it."

"How can you possibly do that?"

"We get you a tutor."

"You're not going to throw money at it. I am not taking anything from you or Dad."

"Well then," she replied, "You can afford this tutor, because you've got enough money of your own. All the child support for your last two years."

"I supported myself, thank you very much."

"You were not supposed to, legally. My lawyer says I owe it back to you."

"There is no lawyer who says that!"

"It is true! It is the legal rule!" 

"That sounds like a legal rule you made up all by yourself, Oksana!"

"Stop calling me that! I have my lawyer write a letter to your lawyer then," she said, getting up.

"I think that's a very good idea," he yelled at her as she stormed out, turning in his chair. "If you have something to say to me, call my lawyer!"

He turned back around, and looked at Alexis and Kathleen. He came to his senses.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't apologize," Alexis said. "Do your best, let me take you to the counselor as we said, and I can put up with a little arguing here and there. I get enough of it in my profession; it's no big shock."

"OK. But Mrs. Connor doesn't. I feel really bad now; you're trying to help and I just got in the way. But the whole thing is my fault anyway. I don't want anybody else to have to work on fixing it."

Kathleen looked at him sympathetically. "Now, now, don't say that. It's really interesting for me. It is! I swear! Did you know that this teacher said, this," she rifled through the records, and read: "Arkady Petrovich Nikiforov, thinks you would be a good teacher yourself?"

Zander smiled slightly, in spite of himself, at the memory of Arkady Petrovich and at Kathleen reading his name. "I remember. He said that. It was just natural to be ahead of the English class."

"He thought you really helped the other students."

"He was nice," Zander said.

"He really thought so. We teachers don't just go around saying that to be nice."

He smiled a little, to himself, again. He looked up at Alexis. "I should take you back to the office," he said. 

"Think about it some more," Kathleen said to Zander, as she left them from out front at Kelly's.


	58. Chapter 58

**Part 58**

Alexis arranged to meet Gail Baldwin, M.D., at the hospital. She sent Zander on a supply run after he dropped her off.

"Come in, Alexis," Gail said, when she got to her office, "It's nice to see you. Come in and sit down."

"I have a case for you, if you are interested," Alexis said. "It's a friend. Don't laugh, it's really a friend! I'd send him right to you directly, but you have the right to a warning. This case is a doozy – a real, total, complete, knock-down, no-question doozy."

Gail sat down at her desk. "It sounds interesting. The doozies usually are."

"To start with – let's see, where do we even start? OK. We start with a couple with two sons. They get a divorce. Then we have the nasty custody battle. Then we have abduction of the children by the non-custodial parent. As if this were not enough, we have an international abduction. A couple of years later, we have the abductor in jail. Older child becomes a runaway. Later this child comes back into the orbit of mom and dad and brother. Dad now out of jail. Runaway child did not choose to be back into contact with them. He was forced into it when his medical history became essential to Dr. Quartermaine here. Now we have Mom moving brother and herself here. This runaway is my friend, employee, and I got him to agree to counseling over it. The mother, I bet you will think, should be part of it, but she's not the counseling type. Likely to be resistant. Very practical, smart, but emotionally – oversimplifies things a great deal."

"What a doozy!" Gail said.

They both laughed.

"This is right up my alley," Gail said. "Bring 'em on!"


	59. Chapter 59

**Part 59**

Zander went to Jake's, and up to his old room. He knocked, and called: "Rosa, you still here?"

She opened the door.

"Come in, sweetheart."

"I wanted to see if you were still here."

"I'm getting ready to go."

"You'll find me before you leave, won't you?"

"What for? I'll get everything of yours out, too."

"I want to say good-bye the right way this time."

"No need. I'm staying here. I have a job."

"What job?"

"A very good job. I'm gonna be the butler."

"The butler?" he laughed. "Where?"

"Your mother's, silly."

"But you've got your family in Miami. You must've had a job there."

"My two nieces will be here soon. One is to be the groundskeeper. She's good with the plants. The other - just the general maid. I had a job mailing packages. Low pay. Long hours."

"You really want to?"

"Of course, sweetie. Of all the employers I've had, the best one is your mother."

"It gets really cold here. In the winter. Like you've never felt."

"I'll live. It seems many people stay here in winter and they survive."

He laughed a little. She poked him in the arm. "Come on. You think that's funny."

He laughed.

"Your mother will turn on the heater in the house, I bet. It's a nice house. A great job condition, to get to live in one of those kind of houses. I remember."

He smiled. "If you're sure you want to stay, that's the best thing I've heard in ages."

"Come and see the house."


	60. Chapter 60

**Part 60**

Peter was still to stay at the Connors so that Oksana could get the house in order first, and so that it would be a weekend when he moved in. School had started. Peter drove himself and Tim to school; Tim thought it was pretty cool. He compared this to the bus. Peter wanted to go on the bus one day. They went on the bus. Peter thought it was pretty cool.

He called Zander to tell him about this and to tell him to come over that Friday night, because of the family having pizza and beer to watch somebody or other's tape of the New Hampshire 300.

The house was noisy and full of people - 16 year old boys seemed to be everywhere. Zander went back to the kitchen, slowing down in the little hallway to look at the pictures. In the kitchen, he saw Kathleen poking her head into the refrigerator, talking about whatever she was looking for in there. Then he saw Quinn leaning against the counter, concentrating hard on trying to open a salsa jar.

"Let me," he said, trying to take it from her.

She grabbed it back with a pretend little-kid look of injured competence, with the words that go along with such a look: "I can do it."

Kathleen looked up. "No, let him. That's one of the few things men can do right," she said.

Quinn stopped, then sheepishly gave the jar to Zander. "Don't want you to miss a chance to do something right."

"Thank you," he said, twisting hard on the lid.

"There are so few things women cannot do right," he said, teasing Kathleen. "The ones they can't do are the strangest list. Open jars. Parallel park. There's no logic to them. You just have to learn them as you go along and memorize them."

"Like the Russian verbs that have to be in the - the Whatever case," Quinn said.

Zander's eyes flew open. Laughingly, he said, "Where in the world - oh, Pete. Is that his homework? He doesn't need any help with that."

"Oh, no. He was helping Tim."

"He's got Tim taking that class. Probably convinced him it is an easy A."

"I don't know about Tim," Kathleen said. "But Peter better get an A in Russian, or he will never hear the end of it from me."

"Me either," Zander said.

It was fun to just hang around there, watching the race tape. Easy. Everybody made jokes, commented on the cars or the drivers or argued about them in fun. When the race was done, everybody ate pizza and drank coke, or beer and made smart aleck comments, or talked about the race on the tape, or some other race that was coming up or some other race that had taken place in the past, or this or that raceway, and why it was harder than this or that other raceway and which type of car was best on which type of track.

It got later and most of the teenagers were gone. Joe was in the den with Tim, Peter and Brad, now they were playing some video game of baseball.

Zander watched that awhile, then went into the dining room. Quinn and her parents were just talking in there, over the remains of pizza.

Quinn looked up at him. "Sit down," Kathleen said. "How is the house? I heard you saw it."

"It's in a terrible neighborhood," he said, unthinkingly.

All three of them laughed. It gave him a really nice feeling, to have made them laugh, though he had been serious, but he saw how he had inadvertently made a joke. They seemed to laugh at everything. Not because they were making fun of it, but more because life was – so strange, and people were - so funny.

"Well," he went on, changing to go along with the funny side, "there are some really undesirable characters in that neighborhood. You can always count on Oksana. She's got to buy a house in this town. But no, that can't be the end of it. She's got to pick one around the bend from my ex-girlfriend's."

"You have to be a neighbors with little Emily!" Quinn exclaimed.

"No. But Pete does. Oksana does, and that doesn't look good at all."

"No big deal," Danny said, "we'll call the National Guard in."

"The houses over there are all back from their gates," Kathleen said. "They'll never even notice each other."

"In this one, you do," Zander said. "Who lives in the purple house?"

"The Daleys. There's a girl Quinn's age. Didn't you and she used to play together?" Danny asked Quinn. "What was her name?"

"Kayla. I think now, she is married."

"The father drives an old mustang. I've seen him drive by. Sometimes I've seen him working in the front lawn," Danny said. "Mind you, I haven't talked to him in years. Come to think of it, I wonder if I've ever actually talked to him. I know he's Larry Daley, and his wife is Jan Daley, and I know what she looks like. I could recognize them anywhere. Now as to what they could be doing in that house, they could be building bombs or manufacturing cocaine or burying the victim's bodies under the basement floor, for all I know."

"This neighborhood used to get together a lot," Kathleen said. "The civic association had meetings. We had Easter Egg Hunts, and Halloween pageants. All the kids played together. We had barbecues. It seems as if the kids in the neighborhood were all little at one time and now there're all teenagers and young adults, and those things don't happen. Strange. You get busier when the kids get this old."

"Have to drive them around everywhere," Danny agreed. "Take them to colleges, go to weddings. They are more work than little kids are."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Quinn said, teasingly.

Danny threw a balled up napkin at her. She tried catching it, but it got away onto the floor.

"Come to think of it," Danny said. "I haven't seen Mrs. Daley in years."

"Well, she must live there," Quinn said.

"I walk by and see people, mowing the lawn. Or drive by and wave. Or they walk by here, walking the dog, or taking a walk. But not her. I haven't seen that woman in years. I wonder what he did with her?"

"You've seen her. You just forget," Kathleen suggested.

"I don't remember everything, but I haven't seen that woman in 10 years."

"I wonder what he did with the body," Quinn said. "Are you going to call the cops?"

"He must have done something, because I haven't seen that woman in years."

"Oh Danny, be quiet," Kathleen said. "Now I'm going to have to slow down and stare every time I pass that house, to try to get a glimpse of her. Now, Zander," she said. "You can feel much better. Whatever that neighborhood's flaws, at least people don't mysteriously disappear."

"They wouldn't know each other, anyway," Zander explained. "The lawns are behind the gates and the gardeners work on them, so nobody sees somebody else working on the lawn as they walk by."

"They pass each other in their Mercedes," Danny said. "They look carefully, to see if the other guy's Mercedes is bigger and better."

Zander laughed.

"Zander has this friend, Elizabeth," Quinn explained. "Her boyfriend, Lucky, explained it all to me. The reason the neighborhood is not safe is that Zander is a threat to little Emily and her grandfather."

"Little Emily and her Grandfather. Sounds like a fairy tale!" Danny said, exploding into laughter.

"Emily's grandfather wouldn't mind making me disappear," Zander said.

"Why, didn't he like you?" Danny asked.

"How could someone not like you?" Kathleen asked.

"He said I was a deviant. A miscreant."

"Huh?" Danny got up. Zander wondered where he was going. When he came back in, he had a big book. Quinn started giggling really hard.

"Look, Zander," Kathleen said, "Danny has the dictionary."

"Well," Danny said. He turned pages, and took a little too long to find what he was looking for.

"Look under 'D'" Quinn said, giggling even harder.

"OK," he said. "OK. 'One that differs from a norm, especially a person whose behavior and attitudes differ from accepted social standards.'"

"That's you, all right," Quinn said to Zander.

"His picture is right here," Danny said, "See?" He turned the dictionary toward them quickly, then turned it back. "Miscreant," he said, turning pages, "An evildoer; a villain. An infidel; a heretic."

"He's not Catholic," Quinn told them.

"Oh, of course, he's a heretic, then," Danny said.

"You guys are so," Zander said, struggling for a word, "so, so . ."

"Silly," Kathleen said, helpfully.

"Poor Grandfather," Danny said, "Soon he'll have to see Zander driving by in a Porsche."

"He'll report it stolen," Zander said.

"You can just park it over here," Danny said.

"Wouldn't that be painful to you and Tim," Kathleen put in. "What an inconvenience."

"Not nearly as inconvenient as what poor little Emily has to do." Quinn said. "I'm not sure I understand why, but Elizabeth's friend Lucky has tried to explain it to me several times. Zander has too. I still don't get it. She went to college, but she can't tell any of her friends where she went. I don't get it, because if she just told Lucky, he wouldn't tell Zander. If Zander finds out, he's apparently going to go there and force her away from there. Carry her off to a castle somewhere."

"How romantic," Kathleen said.

"Really romantic," Quinn said. "it is so romantic. Hey! I know. Oksana's detective. He found you. Surely he could find Little Emily?"

"Little Emily, you keep saying, Quinn," Danny said. "Now how would you like it if Zander here kept calling your old boyfriend, what's his name the lawyer, what was his name - Shyster Sean?"

Zander laughed. "And she will eat those words. Little Emily in her stocking feet can look down on the top of her head."

"Oh no! I completely forgot!" Quinn suddenly said.

"Forgot what?" Danny asked.

"I'm meeting Paul at the movies. At 8."

"Since it's 11, that is going to be a challenge," Danny shook his head and sighed.

Quinn went out of the room and came back with her purse. She pulled out her cell phone.

"Off," she said, as if examining evidence. She listened for a message. "He went home," she said.

"That does it. Split. Amicably. But split," Danny advised.

"Would you do anything to try to stop Quinn from dating anybody?" Zander asked him. "Behind her back, I mean."

"No," Danny said. "Why bother with something like that, when I tell her to her face, and she doesn't listen?"

"They fell in love in high school," Quinn explained. "They saw each other across the cafeteria, and it was all over. They refuse to see how everything is so much more complicated now," she continued, as if Zander of course understood perfectly.

"They only want to protect you from making a mistake," Zander said.

"Hell, no!" Danny said. "I'm protecting Paul from her! We men have to stick together! Imagine! Poor guy! How in the world do you just forget a date?"

Zander was speechless, and then he started laughing, helplessly, a little appalled that Danny's irreverence extended this far, but seeing that Quinn thought nothing of it and just flung it back at him.

"Let him go," Kathleen advised. "To find a girl who is crazy for him."

"Oh, that sees him across a crowded room, and boom! That's it," Quinn said.

"I'm telling you, we have to stick together," Danny said to Zander, "She forgot to meet him at the movies? She forgot?"

"He'll understand," Quinn said.

"Think about it Zander," Danny continued, "Never accept such an excuse as that. If this Paul had not graduated from medical school, he'd be a sorry character indeed."

"Why, because he is reasonable, and understanding?" Quinn asked.

"He ought to be so mad, smoke should be coming out of his ears! He ought to be over here by now, knocking at the door!"

"Poor Paul! You think he ought to be miserable over me forgetting a date?"

"Well, yeah! That's how it is when you are madly in love!"

"The world would be in a chaos if that were true."

"The world is in a chaos," Zander said. "Stood up doctors. Unsolved assassinations. Girls in hiding at colleges. Missing neighborhood women."

All four of them were in stitches. Danny plopped the dictionary down, and flipped the front cover over it, closing it decisively, as if to say to Zander, "you've figured it all out and the book is closed."


	61. Chapter 61

**Part 61**

Gail sat at her desk, and looked at the young man sitting across from her. She said, "First, I should tell you about what we might think of as possible conflicts of interest. It's a small town and people cross paths a lot. But your case interests me very much, and I don't believe they'll bother me at all, such as they are, that is to say, I will make the treatment the best I can within my ability. So it is up to you if they make you feel uncomfortable. And we can find you someone else, and that will not offend me in the least. It is up to you, entirely. "

"OK," he said.

"One of my colleagues, Dr. Monica Quartermaine, has been a friend of mine for a long time. So long, that it has little effect. I don't detect that she has any hostility to you, but her family may; that's just the impression I get. On the other hand, that is balanced out by my also having known Alexis for many years and having a lot of respect for her. We worked on a few cases together; I testified in court in her client's cases on a couple of occasions. One, in fact, was a custody case. I've testified for some other lawyers on that kind of a case, too. But you I'm treating, so I could never testify on anything that came up in a court. If anything could, they'd have to get another psychiatrist to examine you for that."

"If they fought about my brother, could they call you?"

"Very good question. No. I wouldn't even make an examination of your brother for such a case. Those conflicts concerning Dr. Quartermaine are minor league compared to that. I would have treated you and would have opinions of your parents from that. It would sink all my objectivity. If they called me just as a witness, I couldn't do it because there is confidentiality between you and I, and I cannot break that for anything - only where you wanted me to."

"Like a lawyer?" he frowned.

"Yes, exactly like that. I couldn't discuss your case with Monica, so I'm only talking about you thinking maybe I don't like you on account of knowing her. I can tell you I don't, but it's the way you look at it that matters."

"They don't like me. But she did everything, when I got shot; she did her job separately. I mean, she did whatever doctors are supposed to do, so if it didn't affect her I don't think it would affect you. I'm not real fond of her sons, they always make sure to tell me they think I am a lowlife. The grandfather always calls me a miscreant or a recreant or a deviant or something like that. My last girlfriend was their daughter and I'm not real happy with her for breaking up with me, but now that's all over. They worked for that break up, and they got what they wanted. They won and they must be happy about that. And I guess what I am really here about is my parents. Alexis never mentioned thinking I needed to see a shrink before they showed up. She picked you. So to me, you're OK."

"All right, that's good." Gail got up from her desk and took the other guest chair, so she was just sitting across from him with no desk between them, as she always did with patients. "Let me ask you this. How old were you when your parents got a divorce?"

"Eleven."

"Do you have brothers and sisters?"

"One brother."

"How old was he at the time?"

"Seven."

"Were you relieved by the divorce?"

"Relieved?"

"Glad they were separated, finally, to put an end to the fighting."

"No. I didn't think of them as fighting until the divorce."

"They didn't fight in the later years of their marriage, that you knew?"

"They were both gone so often, on business."

"Together?"

"No."

"Who took care of you?"

"Rosa."

"She was a constant in your life?"

"Yeah."

"Was she there every night when you went to bed?"

"Yeah."

"When your mother was home, did she put you to bed, rather than Rosa?"

"Sometimes. No. Not very often."

"Your father?"

"Never."

"So was their separation a surprise?"

"Yes."

"Who left?"

"My mother left and took us. We moved to another house. It wasn't far away. He wasn't home then. We didn't see him for the longest time, after that."

"Did your mother explain what was happening?"

"Not much."

"I see you changed schools, too."

"Looking back, I think that was just to make it harder for him to find us."

"You think your mother actively tried to separate you from your father?"

"Yes."

"This gives me that impression a little, too."

"I think her general plan was to live there with us, and that we would never see him."

"Do you remember asking her when you would see him next?"

"No. I don't think she said we wouldn't. But it looked that way. I accepted it. I was mad at him for it. I didn't ask her much about it. Guess I knew she wouldn't answer."

"Did she ever put him down in your hearing?"

"No." 

"And when your father found you, then the fighting started?"

"Yes. That's when they started fighting. At least - to me. If they fought before, they never did it in front of us. And they never yelled. The house was big, but nobody did anything angry, like walk out or slam a door, that I saw." 

"Did you ever want them to pay more attention to you?"

"No. I accepted it. Rosa took care of me, and they were - whatever it was they were. People that came to the house when they were home from business trips. People who had big parties at the house. They would take us on trips. Rosa came along on the trips."

"It seems like they paid more attention to you after they split up."

"Yes. Then we were pawns. I think I wanted him to pay more attention to me. He took me to the race track, the speedway, sometimes Pete went too, but he was really little then. That was like an idea of what it might be like if he did care more about me, so I suppose I thought it was great, and would have wanted him to be around more, to do more of that. I was glad when he found us and insisted on us going to see him. I liked that he had done something that showed he wanted to see us. It was like the first time he ever seemed to be going out of his way to see us."

"When he took you and your brother to live with him in Russia, did you have that same idea?"

"Yes. He wanted us to live with him. There, we had a little apartment. That's kind of a joke over there. All the apartments are little. We never lived in such a tiny place before. In a big building that had hundreds of apartments, all the same. But we liked the place! We weren't bummed at all about not having what we used to have. It was the first time Pete and I had to share a bedroom - we thought it was the most fun in the world."

"Was Rosa there?"

"No. This was the first time we were without Rosa."

"So your father took care of you?"

"Yes."

"Put you to bed, cooked dinner, all of a sudden, he does all this domestic stuff?"

Zander smiled to himself. "It sounds crazy the way you put it. He did. He told us to go to bed. He sent us to the markets sometimes. He cooked. He taught me to. Pete, a little bit. No maids. We cleaned the place. We didn't have a car. Nobody did. You don't need one. Everything was so different, it was like an adventure. Like he was taking us on some type of big camping trip. He taught us how to get around. He actually helped us with our homework. He went to soccer games and tennis matches and swimming meets and everything. He actually went where other kids' parents did."

"Wasn't he concerned about putting you in a school where you didn't even know the language? Did he try to give you a crash course?"

"No, we knew it. We didn't know much, but what we did know must have been the most important, the most basic parts. I was lost for about six weeks. Then it just came together. I understood it all and could say anything I wanted to."

Gail said, "Most of the time, children of immigrants know the parents' language. It doesn't fall away until the next generation. They speak it around the house, and the kids pick it up before they get to the age where your ear for language hardens, and learning a foreign language then becomes a matter of studying it."

"Yeah. We knew it like we knew English. And then when you are actually there and you hear only that language, it surrounds you so you just learn it without even having to try."

"Maybe they were around more than you think? You must have heard your parents speaking and they must have used it with you."

"You know, they must have. I don't even remember learning it."

"That's because you are a native speaker of it. I don't remember learning English. Now, French, I sure remember trying to learn that."

"I don't remember learning either Russian or English. Before he took us there, it was like a secret code. No other family knew it. But once I was there, well, it was actually rather fascinating -- being where the whole world used this secret code. That's sort of how it was. A really fun game, cracking the code."

"Do you think that they love you?"

He thought for awhile.

"No. I'm not trying to difficult, or be a brat or self-pitying. Maybe they think they do. They just don't know about it, is all. There are some people - well, take the Quartermaines. They were always saying they loved Emily. They say it over and over. They did everything they did, they said, because they loved her, which included lying. Is that a conflict?"

"No, it's all right. If it is what you think, tell me."

"My parents never say they love me. What they do, maybe I have to think about that, but I don't think that it shows they love me. They have these beliefs about how you do things. How you raise children. You make a lot of money and you spend it on them. You send them to expensive schools. They are happy and that means you did the right things. You can call that love or you can call it whatever you want to call it. They believe that's it, and that they know what it is, so they never realize they just don't know about it. Emily said she loved me and her family said they loved her and I believed it all for awhile. But you can't make it true by saying it while you act another way. My parents at least don't make a show of saying it, but they act very similarly to the Quartermaines. If the Quartermaines love Emily, well then, my parents love me."

"You disagree now, with their version of 'love?'"

"Yeah, I don't think they know any other way. I'm not saying they are mean, and trying to harm me or Emily, but I think they don't know. They just don't know. Like they don't know Swahili. They would have to realize it exists first, want to find out about it, then spend some time with it to learn it."

"Where could they learn it, and where could you learn it?"

"From somebody who does know. Observing somebody who does know."


	62. Chapter 62

**Part 62**

"There are studies showing the effects of a divorce on children, all kinds," Gail said. "Some on children caught in custody battles."

"I know," Zander said. "Alexis and Quinn - she was the nurse on my case in ICU - brought me some stuff about that to read." 

"What did you learn from that?"

"Something about sadness and loss. There was this study that if you were about 6-9 when it happened, you would be very sad. Which Pete never was, that I can remember. It worries me. Sometimes he is – too happy, I think. It could be a cover. Could that be?"

"Possibly. You wouldn't have read the chapter on the 11 years olds, would you have?" Gail smiled.

"A little," he answered. "It was that they get angry. I already knew. I know I'm angry. And that I might take a side. And there was a lot about how the parent who abducts you supposedly poisons your mind against the other parent. And that wasn't true for us."

"Your father didn't put your mother down in front of you?"

"No."

"It does sound like they didn't communicate with you much. Didn't tell you much about the divorce. Did they reassure you they still loved you if not each other?"

"No. I don't think either of them ever thought of that."

"Did you think your father was angry at your mother when he took you to Moscow?"

"I don't know. I thought maybe he couldn't see us and that was his way of fixing it, but I don't know really how he felt about it all. He gave up a lot to have us like that. We had some peace from all the back and forth and the courts and cops."

"Did he assure you it was all right if you still loved your mother?"

"No. But he didn't say not to."

"Same with your mother?"

"I'm not sure. I can't remember her saying it was not all right to love my father, or be with him. I think it was true, though. From all the cops and the arguments I heard then. It was easy to draw the conclusion she thought we should not be around him."

"Ideally, I would have her on the counseling program, too. I would like to meet her on her own and then with you."

"Yeah. No way will she do that."

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty much. She's a know-it-all. If she came, she'd tell you how it supposed to be."


	63. Chapter 63

**Part 63**

Coming out of the pits at the speedway, Joe told Zander and Sergei, "by the way, I was visiting that friend of yours in the hospital - Elizabeth. She's missing her classes because of her hospitalization. Her boyfriend and I went to PCU to get her schedules and books straightened out to try to minimize the damage there. So while I was there, I took the liberty of talking to the person in charge at the admissions office. Didn't mention you by name, just broadly stated the general picture. The lady there was interested. She said there is a way to take a set of classes that count for college and for a General Equivalency Diploma at the same time. The home schooled kids can do it that way, and anybody over high school age who wants to get a college degree."

"Thanks, Joe," Zander said slowly. "I didn't know that. Never even thought to ask them. I just thought I had to have a high school diploma."

"Nothing's simple nowadays, it seems."

"You know I'll help out," Sergei said, "Whatever you need."

"I don't know," Zander faltered.

"Well, think about it, my boy. Come up to my hotel suite for a little while. So you know where I am if you need to find me. Come on, too, Joe."

Zander went without protesting, feeling unsure, but fairly safe with Joe around. He wanted to talk to Sergei, but just about cars and the like, not about stuff like "helping."

They were at the elevator in the Port Charles Hotel lobby, waiting to go up. The door finally opened. Oksana came out in a rush and stopped suddenly when she saw them.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded of Sergei.

"You know why. I came to help my son."

"I'm here to do that," she snapped.

Some other people came along and were trying to get into the elevator.

"Let's sit down over in the bar," Joe Quinn said. Sergei and Oksana just looked at him, "Have a little talk. Prove to him you can sit down and be civil in a public place for 10 minutes together."

Sergei said he agreed. Oksana just stared at him, but went along. Zander was rather speechless and it was easy for Joe to get him to go into the bar.

They sat down at a table there - Joe asked the bartender for 3 vodkas and one iced tea.

Oksana recovered first. "You ought to leave town; Peter's here, now," she said to Sergei.

"I'm not going near Peter," Sergei said. "I only help Aleksander. That's it. No Peter. You got Peter still, so I make it easier on you - I help Sander."

"That sounds sort of reasonable," Joe said amicably.

"I can help Aleksander, too," Oksana said. "Don't be so ridiculous. You got to get out of town, because Peter's here."

"I avoid and walk around Peter so long as the court tells me too."

"Oh, I see," she said. "You want to take us back to court."

"No," Sergei insisted. "I'm sick of all that. Only two more years and Peter can talk to me if he wants. I can stay away from a kid in a town. Even my own kid."

"You better not be planning something," Oksana said. "You kidnap Peter again, and you're going to get caught this time."

"I'm not gonna kidnap Peter," Sergei said. "You think I like prison? I'm not gonna do that. I just help Aleksander. With you or without you."

"Would be good to find a way to work together on this," Joe said mildly, sipping at the vodka.

"I really don't need any help, Dad," Zander said. "I don't want you to go back to prison."

"Well, of course," Oksana said to Zander, "he kidnapped Peter before. He kidnapped you, before. That's why they have this rule. Not just to be mean. Because he can't be trusted. And you watch out, too. You think you're so smart. You're not that smart compared to him. I can tell you."

"Shut up," Sergei addressed Oksana. "I'm not gonna go near Peter, and I'll do what you want me to do to help Sander. Deal?" He put his hand out to Oksana. 

She would not take it, but she said, "OK." Zander was glaring at her. The glare got a little less intense when she agreed.

"Good night, son," Sergei said, getting up to leave. "Good night, Joe." He looked at Oksana. "Good night," he said.


	64. Chapter 64

**Part 64**

Tracey Cannon's name plate was large, in the middle front of her desk. Kathleen and Zander sat across from her. She was in charge of admissions at Port Charles University.

"This is a state university, so there's a state law saying we can't award a degree or enroll someone in the degree program without a high school diploma," she was explaining. "Or a GED. You can start without the GED; if you do that you have to take certain classes. Then you end up with the GED well before you graduate – you have to be considered general college at least one full year. But normally you'd have two years of that anyway, first. You can also go to night school; adult high school, first. They'd give you an actual high school diploma."

"I'm looking for the fastest way here," Kathleen said. "Zander here, he should be a junior in college, right now, and I don't expect him to catch up to that, but as close as we can. We have the option of tutoring and we're only trying to get him into this school, not some major university. No offense," she added. "I graduated from this fine institution. My husband did, too."

"I know," Tracey answered. "This isn't Harvard."

"I want to get my young friend here, Zander, into it," Kathleen replied "We're not exactly sure what he's going to major in, let's say tentatively, education. What I majored in."

"You're a teacher?" Tracey asked.

"Yes. That's why I needed to see you this late in the afternoon," Kathleen smiled.

"No wonder," Tracey said. "Let's see. If you can get tutors for him, I would think the fastest way would be tutor him to pass the GED exam. Now, some people complain, the homeschoolers loudest, that a GED has the stigma of a dropout. But to get into PCU when you're a resident of the area, that isn't deadly."

"You look into the whole situation, don't you?" Kathleen said. "Zander has some unusual history which explains how it got to this point where he'd need one."

"Not really," Zander said. "When it comes down to it, I'm a dropout."

"Not the usual kind of drop out they're thinking of," Kathleen said. "A very high pressure situation; things that are very unusual," Kathleen explained to Tracey. "We can explain it in the application for admission, I would assume?"

"I don't think you have to," Tracey said. "An unusual background isn't necessarily a negative factor for getting admitted."

"If I didn't have the tutor," Zander asked her, "what would be the best way?"

"Well," Tracey said, "I think probably taking the GED as your first 24 credits," she said. "You'd have to believe you could pass all that, since it would be college level classes. Weird, but I think it was invented for the homeschoolers. They all believe – not saying they're wrong – that they've had a high school education. So if you don't think yours is complete, and you'd be in over your head, you'd be better off going for the high school diploma itself."

"I'd have to take gym all those basket weaving classes?" he asked.

"In adult high school programs, it is geared to the academic only," Tracey asked. "If you look into it, you'll probably find you don't have to take all that stuff. You're over 18; then they don't feel responsible for your taking health and driver's ed. They probably only make sure you have 4 years worth of English, 3 of social studies, three of science, three of math, and so on. They don't always take that long, either. Teaching people 14-17 in a regular school is not the same."

"We can look at it," Kathleen said to Zander. "All that's true. People over 18 who are only trying to get the diploma are different from people under 18 who are in high school. The adult program could be really focused on getting the credits. Junk 101 is probably not required, and it could take half the time to learn the same things."

"You have maybe a little social stigma there," Tracey observed. "You're in high school and you're 18 – how old are you?"

"20. But the social stigma for me, of being in high school, isn't a real drop-down. I could care less about my social standing."

"So is everybody else in the class, in those adult high schools," Kathleen put in.

"Take my card," Tracey said, smiling. "Call me if I can answer any question."

"One more thing," Kathleen said. "If I may. I want to send you his actual high school records. They're from a foreign country – we have translations," she added.

"Foreign students certify their secondary education themselves," Tracey said. "If you've been through a foreign system and have the diploma, you can be qualified. We always have international students. That's not even a problem."

"I didn't get to graduate from it," Zander said.

"Still, we have some idea that it may have been stronger than the same number of years in American high school," Kathleen said. "It's been about four years since he was there, though."

"Often they are academically stronger," Tracey said, ruefully, "But with that a factor, then I would say getting tutored for the GED appears the best way possible. You need review. Four years is a long time. You need to meet the knowledge standard, without getting picky about which classes you've had and which you haven't. Trying to figure out where you stand even, in adult high school, could be difficult. It could be done, but it could be difficult. I think the straightest path is to pass the GED test, so you can get into a position to get a degree, while at the same time getting a review, so starting here doesn't get you into too much. The last thing you want is to have trouble passing the classes here."

Outside, Kathleen said, "there's some more information to think about. No pressure to decide. Just roll that around in your head for awhile."

"Thank you. I will. And thank you for going with me, Mrs. Connor. I couldn't have asked her the right questions, like you did. I know I never would have. I'd have come out of there knowing much less than I do with you asking."

"This is going to work out," Kathleen said, patting his arm. "You're going to graduate from college one day. I feel it in my bones."

Zander smiled. "What track record do your bones have?"

Kathleen laughed. "A very good one, my young friend. A very good one."


	65. Chapter 65

**Part 65**

Zander left Gail's office. He went to the ICU. He was in luck. Quinn was sitting at the desk.

"Hi," she said, "What brings you here? I figured you would have had enough of this place to last a lifetime."

"I was here talking to my shrink. Or, well, Dr. Baldwin, I should say. I thought I could drop by and see Elizabeth."

"She's down in a regular unit now. Doing better."

"That's good."

"I'll take you down there."

"Only if you have time."

"I can do it," she said, still looking at the keyboard. The typed a few more keys and then got up and came out from behind the desk. She had pink scrubs on.

She went to the elevator and pushed the button. "Do you like your shrink? " she asked, "Dr. Baldwin, I mean."

"Yes," he said. The elevator door opened, and they went in. Nobody else was in there. "She thinks Oksana should come in. That'll be the day."

"Ask her."

He thought about this for a minute. True, he hadn't tried that.

"Has anyone seen Mrs. Daley yet?" he asked, grinning.

"No. My theory is space aliens took her away. Do you have one?"

"Of course I do! Danny hasn't seen her in 10 years, right? She was a deep cover KGB spy – she took off when her job was over 10 years ago."

"How are your own Russian spies?"

"I've talked to Sergei a bunch of times."

"How does that go?" The door opened. They walked out. Quinn knew which way to go, and he walked with her down the hall.

"OK. He insists he won't be trying to get custody of Pete or try to get him away. But that's only his say-so. Still, he doesn't act like he's being sneaky, but I'm not sure. How do I really know?"

"You've got some reason not to trust him, but you wouldn't be a total fool if you did. He hadn't been to jail before, and you were both kids. Now he's been to jail. Peter is having a great time meeting everybody at a new school – 'cause that's how he seems to me to be, anyway. And excited about being on the Mercy High School Soccer Team – such persons as get to be a part of that exalted body are not likely to leave it, even for Sergei."

"I feel much better, Quinn," he grinned.

"I'm glad," she said, laughing.

Elizabeth looked up as they both came into her room.

"Oh hello," Elizabeth said. "One of my favorite subjects, Quinn! I want to learn to draw cars," she went on. "Joe brought me this book to copy from. Later when I finally get out of here, I'm going to go down to the track and draw some, especially in motion. I have in mind a painting of you with your race car. Girl Racer."

"That ought to be really neat," Zander said, imagining this painting.

"What do you think, Quinn?" Elizabeth said. "You don't have to pose a really long time."

"Sounds fun," Quinn said. "I have to post-check you in a day or two. How do you feel?"

"A lot better," Elizabeth said. "Just knowing I'm almost out. Everything is still stiff, especially my right leg. But the internal injuries feel healed up."

"Good thing," Quinn said. "See you later," she said to them both, and went out.

"You know Joe, too," Zander said, left with Elizabeth. "Quinn's godfather?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said. "She's lucky."

"Yeah, he must be a great godfather to have. He's been mine, part time, lately. Almost like having one."

"Yeah, me too," Elizabeth said. "He treats you like - I don't know - like you know what you're doing."

Zander laughed. "Yeah! Sort of treats you as if you weren't a deviant!"

"Well, do you like that? Does it motivate you to be less of a deviant?"

"Yeah. I like it. Maybe I'll become more respectable. Even go to college. What do you think of that?"

"That is a miracle," she answered. "But miracles can happen."


	66. Chapter 66

**Part 66**

Zander was driving from the courthouse to Alexis' office. Alexis was in the passenger seat fumbling with a file. She was always looking for papers in those files; they were full of papers, but the one she wanted at a particular time never seemed to be at hand. It amused Zander to watch her and hear her talking about where it should be, but never was.

"You don't have to move back to Jake's," she was saying, her search failing to take up all of her attention, "I'm fine with you being with me again. Don't worry about it. Who else can I send out for tampons? You don't want to be there, either. Your parents could visit you any time!"

"Them visiting me! Is there a legal proceeding for an order of non-visitation on Oksana?"

"There should be, shouldn't there? How was it meeting the admissions counselor at PCU?"

"OK. It's not so impossible as it used to seem to me." He explained what he had learned.

"I know you'll say no, so I won't bother telling you to let your parents get you the tutor."

"You still did!"

"I know! It'll speed things up, and what's it to them? Costs them hardly a thing compared to what they are worth!"

"But what does it cost _me_, that is the question."

"What could they do? Have you untutored if you won't follow them to some end of the earth?"

"I've gotten used to not having to answer to them."

"Let's ask them what strings are attached. I can't imagine there are any."

"I know I come off paranoid."

"No, not really. You didn't find it hard to trust me. It's not all pervasive to your life. It applies to those two and there are reasons for it."

"I know it's been a long time. Sergei almost seems easygoing. I can't imagine what Oksana would want, but then, that's been my trouble. I never see it coming because I can't imagine it. Maybe to go live in her house or something. I seem to get into an argument with her every time I see her."

"You've argued back. She's not walking all over you."

"Do you really think so? That would be a new thing in life. To me, anyway."


	67. Chapter 67

**Part 67**

Zander was stuck going against his original vow; never to go to Oksana's house.

But Peter and Rosa were there. Supposedly, Pete was in this town to see more of him, so it was asking a little much to demand that he always get in the car and go somewhere else to see him, when he had school and soccer practice and homework. The house was big, and Oksana wouldn't always be there, and Zander tried telling himself that he didn't have to get into an argument with her every time he saw her – maybe he could manage a time or two without one.

So he went over in the late one afternoon, after work, and Pete was hitting tennis balls. He played tennis against Pete for awhile. "You are rusty, Sander," Pete said. "I remember how good you were, and I can't be beating you like this except that you must not have played in a long while."

"You're good," Zander said. "It's that."

"No way can I be as good as you were! See now, aren't you glad we're here, Sandy? Now you have a tennis court and you can practice and get back up to speed. You like it, I know."

Oksana came outside. No such luck as she could be gone just then.

"What are you doing with the school stuff?" she asked Zander, as if they'd never been estranged and he had merely been lazy about signing up for college.

"Researching," he said, deciding against telling her it was none of her business, in the interest of not having an argument with Pete around. Pete was chasing after a couple of balls and then hitting them a few more times, and then chasing them again.

"You need a tutor. Mrs. Connor said so."

"Would you let Mrs. Connor pick this tutor?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Why not? She's a teacher. She can do a better job than me."

"Really?" he said.

"Why wouldn't I?" she asked. "She's a teacher. It's her field. If she wants to do it. Why are you thinking I won't?"

"I don't know."

"Well, she can pick him, or her, if you want. If that'll convince you to take the tutor."

"OK, if you can do one other thing."

"What's that?"

"Talk to Dr. Baldwin. My psychiatrist, the one Alexis sent me to. Dr. Baldwin wants to talk to you."

"Me? How come?"

"I don't know. Shrink stuff. It's her field."

"What does she want me to do?"

"I don't know. It's not that hard. You go there and talk, that's all. She wanted to talk to you. That's all. She knows what she's doing."

"I've never talked to someone like that before. I don't know what they do to you."

"Nothing scary. You talk to her. That's it."

"She doesn't try to get you to take drugs, does she?"

"No! She hasn't said a word about that! Look, Oksana, are you going or not?"

"She wants to talk to your father?"

"No, she didn't mention Dad, so far."

"Why do you call me Oksana but say 'Dad' and call him 'Dad'?" she asked.

"I don't know," he answered. "He's got me feeling more easy going around him already. Does it matter that much? Are you going to go and talk to Dr. Baldwin or not?"

She looked off toward Peter, and then rolled her eyes. "All right," she said. "I'll call her tomorrow."


	68. Chapter 68

**Part 68**

"It wasn't too bad," Zander told Alexis, at home, that evening. "In a pinch I could call it a non-argument."

"And you prevailed on your point."

"I'll still be amazed if she actually calls Dr. Baldwin."

"Let's see what happens. Did you like playing tennis?"

He looked surprised. "Naturally."

"Both your parents mentioned sports - like you're good at it."

"I was, I guess."

"Well, I think you need to get back into that. Things you are good at, that you have fun at, lower your stress."

"What are you doing for that?"

"I'm always planning on doing something. I never get around to it. Running is the only thing I've been doing lately."

"I'll play you in tennis. Oh, and you ought to go to the race track. The Port Charles 100 is this weekend, didn't you know that?

"Is that sort of like the Indy 500?"

"It's one fifth of that."

Alexis laughed. "So it must not take as long."

"Oh, no. And the people who drive in it aren't exactly the same people who drive in the Indy 500."

"Not famous, eh?"

"No. Even Quinn is trying to qualify for it."

"You don't say!"

"Really!"

"I've got to see that."

"I'll take you to it. But what about tomorrow? What have you got tomorrow?"

"One deposition."

"Do you have that case's file in this briefcase?"

"Yes, I do."

"Very good."

"Your brilliant idea is helping my focus."

"Don't stay up too late."

"I won't, but you get some rest, too. Good night."

"Good night," he laughed and kissed the top of her head.


	69. Chapter 69

**Part 69**

Quinn had passed the time trials and was in the race; so was Paul. 

"Racing against each other. How romantic," Alexis observed.

Zander was in the middle of his parents again. He wanted Pete to be able to come to the race, and so had to get Sergei to agree to stay away. Sergei didn't argue, and said he would take care of some business instead.

Then he realized that Oksana still did not want Pete to go. She was convinced Sergei would be there. Zander told her Sergei was specifically not there for that reason. He was forced to invite Oksana to go along, too, and mentioned Alexis was going.

This seemed to be enough; Alexis understood the situation very well, and her being there turned out to be enough assurance for Oksana, and she didn't go along. Zander felt bad that he was so relieved, but had thought of the races as a fun thing to do, and somehow that possibility seemed closed off with Oksana around. He didn't know what to do about it, but it was so. 

Oksana was very civil to Alexis when they went to pick up Peter; this scored her a few points with her older son.

In the pit, Danny and Joe were covered with grease, but having a great time. "Quinn's car is in good shape," Danny told Zander and Peter, who had just come in. "Doctor Perfect's is over there. Needs the plugs replaced."

"Quinn hasn't taken your advice yet, I guess?" Zander smiled.

Danny snorted. "Not yet. It's tough to be wise. So few understand."

"You're a wise guy, all right," Joe said.

Danny laughed and slapped Joe on the back. "And where do you think I learned it?"

"What if Quinn dated that guy over there? The grease monkey picking up that can?" Zander asked, just to see what Danny would say to that. The guy was short and wiry and he had long, stringy hair sticking out under his baseball cap. He was covered in oil like them and had on a pair of ratty jeans and a t-shirt. It was fairly certain, at least by stereotypical signs, that he was not a college graduate.

"He's a cutie," Alexis said, ironically.

"If she loves him, bring 'im on," Danny answered, "I prefer him to all doctors and lawyers everywhere, in that case. I mean the kind where she can't quit thinking of him. Doesn't forget about him."

"Look at across a crowded room, see that guy and that's it," Zander quoted.

"That's the shorthand for it, but really. Why live your life so perfect you miss out on the good parts? Then meet that one across a crowded room and already be married. What a mess. No longer perfect. If people would only see that! So many don't."

"Danny knows how the world should be run," Joe explained. "We don't know he's wrong. Trouble is we don't know he's right, either."

Zander grinned.

A little while later, Quinn arrived. "How is it going?" she asked them.

"Good," Zander said, "Only don't look across the pit at the guy picking up cans."

Danny threw back his head and laughed out loud, even slapping his knee. "You're a sharp one, Zander!" he roared.

Alexis, Zander and Peter were in the stands by the time the race started. It was chilly; one of those days telling you fall is coming. Alexis was having a good time, sitting between Peter and Zander, wearing blue jeans and a leather jacket, which was fun to see, since she wore a professional suit 99 of the time. "Now you look pretty comfortable, for once," Zander said to her. "No briefcase to drag around, either."

Alexis loved the way the cars went around slow then the next time they came around they were whizzing by in a blur and making tons more noise. "I love that zoom when they come by us," she said. They laughed at the announcers, whose voices were audible, but the content of what they said indecipherable.

In the end, Quinn came in 24th and Paul 53rd. Quinn was rather proud of her finish; it was the highest she'd ever gotten. Every single car that had come in ahead of her had a male driver. Alexis was full of cheers for Quinn over that.

"Do you think Dr. Perfect is so happy about it as he seems to be?" Peter whispered to Zander and Alexis.

"Noooo," Alexis said. "It's all fake."

Quinn was all smiles, and happy, electrified in mood, and beautiful as one gets who is excited; different from the businesslike, formally proper-looking nurse.

"Congratulations," Zander said, and shook her hand. She shook Peter's hand, too. "Good run, Q." Peter said. "Now I thought you were the slightest bit tight on the corners, but we can take care of that next time." Quinn looked up at Peter and smiled even more brightly. "Yes, coach," she laughed.


	70. Chapter 70

**Part 70**

"Goodness, this is not a contest, Oksana." Gail thought she had never met anyone so stubborn in her entire life. "Think of it as a different relationship. Apples and oranges. Different things. Father and son. Mother and son. Impossible to compare. I'm happy Zander is getting along with his father, if he wasn't, he'd be involved in more conflict. Let's deal with you and Zander."

"I don't see why there's a conflict with me and not with his father."

"It's not a negative judgment on you, Oksana. There are different circumstances."

"OK. But I still have to watch out – Peter is still a minor, and I have custody, and I don't know their father any more. I don't know what he will do. Sander can trust him if he wants, but I don't know if Sander is right to."

"That's true. That's a good point. You're older and wiser. You have known their father longer than they have. Why do you trust him, Zander?"

"I wanted Pete to be able to come to the race - his friends would be there. But I wanted Dad to be there, too. I asked Dad not to come, because I knew they couldn't both go. Dad said he would stay away – which he did."

"Next time he might not. He got you to trust him," Oksana said. "Next time, you think he will do the same, and he might not."

"Why does it have to be taken for granted that Dad will do the same thing he went to jail for? Isn't that like saying the legal system, the legal punishment does no good at all? So sentence him to jail until his youngest child turns 18, then. Imprison anybody who commits any crime for life. Dad hasn't seen Pete in years, except that minute in the hospital. It seems rather hard on Pete. He hasn't seen his own father in years and now Dad paid the price, but it's still like we have to talk about separating Pete from his own father like his father was the most dangerous monster, and to the last person on earth he would really hurt."

"It would not be that way for your father if he just didn't kidnap both of you."

"So that was why he was in jail. Now he's out. Pete doesn't have a problem with Dad. Maybe the law does. Maybe you do. Why does Pete have to pay that price?"

It was silent a minute. Gail thought she'd wait it out just a little.

It worked.

"Wasn't it hard on me those years you were in Moscow?" Oksana asked Zander.

"Yes."

"Wasn't it hard Peter?"

"Yes."

"Wasn't it hard on you?"

"Yes. But Dad went to jail for it. And before he took us there it was harder. You know there's a reason he took us there."

"There is no excuse for his doing that! It was illegal! That's why they have jail!"

"But you are totally innocent!" Zander declared sarcastically.

"By the laws I was. Your father couldn't just take you all the way over there!"

"Couldn't you just work out a visitation and stick to it?"

"We did! He kept going against it!"

"Come on, we still came home. Did you have to go to court every time he was late?"

"Late. Like the next day. That's more than late. It is simple to you. But was harder for me."

"How simple is it to me? When I was 13 you expected me to handle it."

"How did I do that?"

"You said I should have known that Dad was up to something, because I only had a Russian passport."

"I'm sorry, I was mad at him, I guess."

"So why were you yelling at me?"

"You remember what I yelled at you for so long ago?"

"It was kind of major to me at the time."

"Well, I'm _so_ sorry!"

"Oh, don't play the martyr with me anymore. It doesn't work now. Oh, poor Oksana! That 13 year old kid screwed up with the passport, and that caused me all this headache, and getting him out of the country later was a headache, I merely mentioned his stupid 13 year old mistakes to him when he was 16, gee, who could get mad about that? And he's still mad 4 years later! Poor, poor Oksana."

"Stop calling me that. But you stay stuck in the past."

"That's because it's still there, Oksana. You want to pretend it never happened."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know. Why do I have to have all the answers before I can mention the problem?

"Tell me something I can do."

"Why do you have to _do_ something?"

Gail decided to stop this train. "Oksana, you don't have to do something specific right now. Just acknowledge what happened."

"But of course," she said. "I don't say it did not happen. But what does it do to mention it again?"

"You can go on from there, that's all," Gail said. "Let your son have a say."

"How do I make this up to him that I yelled at him four years ago?"

"It's not a business deal!" Gail exclaimed. "Just listen, and that will do it! You don't even have to agree with him. Just listen, and try not to judge his feelings, as you would have done for yourself. Especially his feelings at age 13. Or 16, or whatever it was," she said, almost laughing. These two were a doozey, indeed.

"OK, I have something," Zander said.

"Something, what?" Oksana asked, still looking at Gail.

"Something you can do," Zander said.

"I have _got_ to hear this," Gail said. "What could it be?"

"Take me to see your parents," Zander said to Oksana. "Your brothers and the rest."

Oksana looked stunned. "Of course," she said.

Gail turned this over in her mind. "A good idea," she said, finally. "Very good idea. So few people grow up without at least seeing their parent as someone else's child, sibling. Where they came from. That's going to help him understand you somewhat better, I think, Oksana."

"OK," Oksana said to Gail, and to Zander, "if you would have just said, I would have done that before."

"Somehow I thought of it now," he said. "I don't know where it came from. But I really do want to go and see them."


	71. Chapter 71

**Part 71**

"Thank you for sitting in on this," Kathleen said to Alexis. "It will really help; this second pair of eyes and ears." They were at the Port Charles Grill, waiting for a tutor candidate to meet them. 

"I'm so glad Oksana left this to you," Alexis said. "She knows what she is doing when it comes to delegating a business deal; I've noticed that. I'm just glad to be of use on any non-business end – you know – where's she's weak."

"Yeah," Kathleen grinned, "but thank you again. You're taking time from your practice."

"Oh well, I'm not worth much with my loyal assistant halfway around the world," Alexis laughed. "I wonder what Yekaterinburg is like this time of year?"

"Cold!" Kathleen said.

"Good call!"

The first tutor they interviewed was Frank Hall, who had tutored Nicholas in History and English for two years. He had a program all set out – Alexis remembered seeing it before. It looked pretty good; it had details and all sorts of explanations.

"Can you be flexible on it?" Kathleen said. "Our student could use a broad based approach."

"How do you mean?" he asked.

"More of an analog processor than a digital, Mr. Hall," Kathleen said helpfully. "Big picture type. Internally organizes things. Not so much systematic activity, but more of exposure to the information, then let him roll it around in his head for awhile. Let him organize it and put it all together then. No time controls, say, like you have here, instead of saying 2 hours on political history then one on the military situation, and then having a test, just go through it all without labeling it separately, do a couple more of these plans, add in the social mores of the day and the science of that era, say. Then let it alone for a few days, then have a test."

Alexis looked at Kathleen with total admiration, while Frank Hall looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

"I assure you this plan has worked for many students," he said. He looked at Alexis for help. "Nicholas did wonderfully on this, and passed the State Regent's tests with high scores every time."

"I think Ms. Connor thinks this student is different," Alexis said.

"I'm not saying it's not a great approach," Kathleen said, "It is really. I'm talking about how to vary it when the student is very right-hemisphere dominant. I mean, that's the advantage of the tutor, right? We can tailor to the student in question."

"Of course," Mr. Hall said. "This program is worked out over time, though, and is perfectly effective. We can slow it down if the student is learning disabled," he said, as if he thought they were fraudulently trying to hide this fact from them.

"No, no," Kathleen said. "It's not the program itself, either. I'm only talking about varying the approach. Attention Deficit Disorder without hyperactivity. But intelligent."

"There are medications for that," Mr. Hall answered. "I teach the student one on one, but other than that, it isn't different from being in school. In school they would not vary the approach for ADD students."

"Of course not," Kathleen said. "I'm only talking about taking the opportunity to do that, where it exists, because there are no other class members."

"Well, you have my card," he said, getting up, as if he thought he had better run before he was caught in a landslide. "Call me if you need me."

The next one, Andrea Donnelly, was in her fifties, and had been tutoring special education children for about 5 years. She thought the student needed to have more self-discipline and learn to control his behavior. She had some theories on that. She also thought medication was advisable.

Alexis and Kathleen rolled their eyes and looked at each other as she left.

The third, Amanda Friel, was about 30 and had tutored a wealthy family's children for five years, and had recently been thrown out onto the market due to the last one finishing up as a senior. "Not real promising for us," Kathleen said in undertone to Alexis, as Ms. Friel came over. 

"Hmmm. Interesting," Ms. Friel said. "I don't know. I mean, I don't know anything about how to teach that kind of student specifically. I've never seen a program designed for that. From experience and what I've read, they simply throw them into regular school, label them disordered, and give them medication so they will function like Left-Dominant thinkers. But if you had a big enough school, where you had enough students to organize it, you could do this – it's not a bad idea, at that. Have classes for that group, and they wouldn't seem disordered, as we put it."

"Exactly," Kathleen said. "I was thinking that as a tutor it may be possible. I didn't realize I would bamboozle the tutors with that thought, though. I've been frightening them all away with it."

"You know, it could be done," Ms. Friel said, looking off and thinking. "In fact, put a – what we call a normal student – a left brain student – into this hypothetical right brain class, and _they_ would have the disorder. _They_ wouldn't be able to concentrate."

"Right," Kathleen said. "For instance, here is this other tutor's plan. I was thinking he could broaden it and make more of an overall approach, and have fewer tests and at later times. In the end, the student would understand the same material as any other would with the exact approach he has here."

"OK," Amanda took Frank Hall's program and looked at it. "We could go through all these units he has divided by subject for the era, before the test. Even mix up his subunits to make it varied. Skip the quiz he has on military, for example, or just make it a homework assignment, or even a game. The student you describe would learn by doing much better than these lectures, so we skip some of this and get the student to research it instead, inventing some underlying pretext. Like: you are the finance minister; do a report for the King of England on the effects of his taxes, something like that."

"Right," Kathleen said, "I think you're onto my thought."

"And this, " Ms. Friel added, frowning at Hall's report, "I have an idea. Take this 'Reasons the South Seceded.' One could tell the student: Argue the case with me. I give the reasons the South should not secede - and ask the student to argue with me like he's a Southerner and wants to make the arguments in favor of it. After that, this student would pretty much understand the reasons the South seceded."

"Probably he would really understand, them, too," Alexis agreed. "Rather than just memorize them and spit them out on the next day's test like I did way back when! I think your way would work!"

"I'm sure it will," Kathleen added, smiling.


	72. Chapter 72

**Part 72**

Oksana was sitting at the window seat in the first class section. Zander was next to her.

He was fidgeting one minute, staring at somebody, like another passenger or a waitress, totally absorbed in their actions for awhile, then reading a page of the airline magazine, then saying it was a long way, then calculating how many miles it was, getting a blanket out of the overhead compartment, saying he was going to sleep, not going to sleep, putting the blanket back, fidgeting some more.

"You are way worse than Peter," she said. "Settle down."

"Well, tell me," he said, "I've been wondering. Were you ever happy with Dad?"

It was always impossible to be prepared for his questions. They came out of the blue eighty percent of the time. "No," she answered. "Why you think we end up divorced?"

"It cannot have been unhappy all the time. You must have liked him once."

She didn't answer.

"Come on, tell me some happy story."

"About what?"

"Don't tell me you weren't happy on your wedding day."

"It was a nice day."

"What, the weather?" He laughed derisively. "Not one day you were just happy with him. You never loved him, you just married him, why, to get a green card?"

"No! I got mine the same way he did."

"So you loved him once?"

She said nothing, but looked out the window.

"OK. You liked him once."

"Maybe, for a little while," she smiled a little bit.

"It was a big mistake, of course. You should not have married him. Is it really that hard to admit to making a mistake?"

"It's not a mistake!"

"It wasn't?"

"Of course not. I can't have you and Peter without him."

"But it was all miserable, every second. You must have hated having his kids."

"No! That isn't so!"

"So it wasn't miserable every second."

"No. I did not hate having you kids."

"His kids."

She shrugged. "Somebody need to be their father."

"You're impossible! Totally impossible!"

"You ask impossible questions!"

Zander did not realize how much he had raised his voice. "Impossible to answer only for unreasonable people, that's what!"

The air marshal was standing there. He grabbed Zander. "Get up," he said. He started to frisk him.  
Oksana looked frightened.

"You all right?" the air marshal asked her.

"Yes, of course - my son and I were only arguing."

"Yeah, dude," Zander said. "If you were on this long flight and had to sit next to your mother for hours, what would happen?"

The air marshal smiled. He patted Zander's shoulders. "Sit down and relax," he said.

Oksana observed that on the entire flight to Munich, on an American airliner, in first class, Sander fidgeted, talked, argued and failed to go to sleep. Yet on the flight from Munich to Yekaterinburg, on a Russian airline, with no first class section, squeezed between Oksana (she could not get him to take the window seat by any means of persuasion or bribery) and another passenger, he was fast asleep. She tucked the blanket around him.

It took her back; evoking memories. She looked out of the window at the clouds, trying to think of a way to tell him about these good memories he had so suddenly demanded to know about.

The happiest part, she thought, had been the years Aleksander was a baby and a toddler. They had a sports equipment shop; hardly any extra money, a big apartment – well, little by American standards, but big by Russian ones. She took Sander to work and had to have a baby carrier and eventually a play pen in the store. Most customers were charmed; they told her that her baby was adorable, cute, a fine fellow, who looked like her, and a hundred other kind words.

She only stopped bringing him to work when he got old enough to object to being trapped in the play pen and disrupted things. His requests, demands, cajoling, or even attempts at fraudulent deception to get out of there had been a sign for the future, she thought.

They only had an occasional day off, and had often gone to walk on the beach, a couple of times even admiring the beachside house they were later to own themselves. Sander crawled then tried to walk, then toddled precariously, then walked then ran around them on the beach.

Later, she had two children and more to attend to; often out of town, and so she hired Rosa Sanchez. They had more money and things were better that way. But now it was easy to see that it didn't necessarily mean they were happier.

The pilot announced they were approaching Koltsovo airport. She didn't want to wake him up, and just watched him, figuring the usual cabin bustle was going to. When he started shaking his eyes open, she instinctively helped him sit up and grabbed the blanket, which he was already throwing onto the floor. He was too half-asleep to protest.


	73. Chapter 73

**Part 73**

Elizabeth was drawing Quinn, who was leaning against her car down at the track, on her day off.

"Aren't you glad to be out of the hospital?" Quinn asked her.

"Definitely," Elizabeth said, using a pencil sideways. "I'll never fail to appreciate the outdoors again! Even when it is as chilly as it is now!"

"Have you heard any more from your best friend at the undisclosed location?"

"No, as a matter of fact. I never got a second letter. I guess she's into studying."

"Yeah, about time for midterms, now."

"How's our friend doing? All over it?"

"Who?"

"Our mutual friend."

"Zander? I don't know, really. I guess he's over it. I don't know. Come to think of it, he hasn't had time to think about it, I'm sure. He's got his parents to deal with, so I imagine that has overwhelmed lit- Emily's rejection."

"Parents?" Elizabeth looked up for a minute. She smiled, and continued drawing. "Zander has parents?" She giggled a little bit.

"You thought he was hatched from a test tube?"

"Something like that," Elizabeth smiled to herself, turned her head again, and kept on drawing.

Quinn laughed. "He does seem like the creation of a mad scientist, doesn't he? Foisted upon the world, to destroy us all."

Elizabeth laughed. "What was he the creation of?"

"Well, you know that video game, Tetrus? Where the blocks come down from the top and you have to try to get them in line?"

"Yes," Elizabeth giggled some more.

"I remember Joe joking around when we were kids. He said the Russians invented that game to drive us nuts. Though we must have invented a game that drove them more nuts, because they lost big time and dissolved their evil empire."

"I see!" Elizabeth giggled. "Zander destroyed them! There are people who think he could!"

"No," Quinn laughed, "the Russians sent that game, and it didn't work, so they pretended to go away, and now, they've sent Zander here to accomplish the purpose of driving us nuts!"

Elizabeth looked up. "It's going to work! We're doomed! But really, who are Zander's parents?"

"Russian immigrants, who came to Florida, had Zander and his brother, and then got divorced. Zander ran away from them to get away from their custody battle."

"There's a brother?"

"Yep. A 16-year-old brother."

"Wow! Emily never mentioned any of that!"

"I don't think she knew."

"Strange. One would have thought she'd have asked."

"It could be he wouldn't tell her. It was like pulling teeth, and we wouldn't know now if we didn't need his medical history to make sure he didn't have a serious heart condition."

"Even so. Wouldn't you have pressed really hard?"

"I would have. Especially when he wouldn't tell me. I mean, can you imagine not knowing that stuff about Lucky?"

"Lucky hasn't spoken to me in a couple of weeks. Big fight, you know how that goes. But no. No way. Of course, we were in high school and he lived with his parents. But if I had met him somewhere else I'd expect to know that stuff. You don't even think about it. It's basic."

"Lucky fights with you when you were in the hospital?

"Well, as you can tell from our mutual friend's experience, that doesn't make us immune."

"But Lucky _knew_ you were in the hospital."

"It's other stuff, coming to a head due to being in the hospital. It's not good when you have too much time to sit around and talk."

Quinn laughed. "I'll remember that! But back to this Emily, I know she's your best friend, but there's another thing. This thing about how they keep it a secret Zander was in the hospital. So I wonder about the real strength of this relationship. How could that be? Why would you put yourself out of direct contact with your boyfriend and still think he was your boyfriend? I've never know anybody like this, even in high school."

"Who knows?" Elizabeth said. "It is rather odd. But I wouldn't worry about this relationship picking up again."

"Then the way Alexis found out about his family was by going and talking to his _prior_ girlfriend," Quinn was going on. "A model that Lucky was photographing, in fact. Zander told that girl a very little bit, but enough that it helped Alexis track down his parents."

"Zander. Parents. I'm really curious."

"You can get to see them some time. The mother and brother are here now. The father is here at least some of the time. Oh, and the mother and brother live in the same neighborhood with the Quartermaines."

Elizabeth laughed again. "Man! Grandfather Quartermaine is probably trying to sue somebody right now! That's almost funny. I can hear him. 'That deviant's brother will not live in this town,' and so on."

"Exactly it." Quinn said. "Zander was at my folks one day; he told us about that guy calling him a deviant."

"He was at your parents'?"

Quinn explained how her parents had ended up with Peter.

"I think we should take Joe Quinn to the Middle East," Elizabeth said. "He is the only one who can hope to solve their problems. But you _have_ gotten drawn into that deviant's problems! Be careful, Quinn. The Svengali will take over your mind, and you will end up doing his bidding!"

Quinn laughed. "I've heard these warnings before! Have they ever worked on anyone?"

"Not that I know of," Elizabeth admitted.

A little while later, Paul arrived, having left the hospital a little early, at Quinn's invitation to come to the track to see her being a model.

Quinn introduced them. They both started a little, almost, Quinn thought, as if they secretly knew each other from some previous time.

"You've got the perfect model," he said to Elizabeth.

"You wouldn't be so bad yourself," Elizabeth said. "I can see it - All-American boy with motorcycle. Even if you don't really ride a motorcycle, you can still be the model."

"Try it," Quinn told Paul. "It's not too bad. I've been standing here for awhile now. It's not as dull as it sounds. Like communing with nature. Really gets your head out of the medical setting, work and the whole thing."

"I'm glad to hear that!" Elizabeth said. She looked at Paul and then went back to drawing.

"Are you working for somebody?" Paul asked Elizabeth. "As an artist?"

"For Deception Company, in the art and advertising department," she said. "Part time, though. I'm a senior at PCU. An art major. This is not for work."

"Oh, no," he said. "This is true artistic inspiration."

"Yes, as a matter of fact. Joe Quinn and I were talking one day, and just stumbled on this idea. And I've become a professional Quinn drawer in the hospital. I'll show you a sketchbook sometime with several drawings of a nurse reading a chart or writing in a chart."

"You must be glad to get out of there and see different things!" he laughed.

"Yeah," she looked up at him, "Different people, too."


	74. Chapter 74

**Part 74**

Oksana was able to tell her son of some of the happier times she had thought of on the way over while he was asleep, here and there during the visit. It was easier to deal with him with her family around. He was in a much better mood than she'd ever seen him in since finding him; more like the good-natured boy she had remembered.

When he first realized that his grandmother believed him to have been "away at college," she had a moment's discomfort. Fortunately, he apparently saw no reason to go against that story, and only she was able to detect the sarcasm of "Yeah, Mom liked the town my school is in so much that she and Pete moved there."

Oksana was further greatly relieved that he saw the proprietary of using the usual address for a son to his mother. 

Sander was charmed enough by the entirely new experience, for him, of having blood relatives beyond immediate family, who even looked like him, that he was generally happy and no longer interested in whatever he might otherwise have argued with her about.

So she told him of taking him to work, as a baby, and going to the beach, while walking about the park of the Novo-Tikhvin Nunnery with her brother Vadim and his family, watching the children run around while Vadim and his wife admired one of the ponds.

They took another walk on their own when he wanted her to show him where she had gone to school, and she got a chance to tell him of her girlhood, something she had never seen the advantage of before, and was amazed at how dense she must have been not to have seen it.

He thought the city was very nice; she agreed but said it had been gray and dull when she had lived there as a girl. It was lightened up with the lifting of the iron curtain. Now there were tourists and visitors from around the world, and it just seemed happier. Sander even seemed to have some compassion for her when she described what it was like back when she was a teenager.

She had run away too, though in a different way and from different causes. She had been concerned that he would think ill of her for abandoning the family he obviously had reason to find so charming, but he did not.

The city's architecture was very distinctive. It was lucky that Oksana's sister-in-law Marina was a graduate of architecture school, who went along and explained things to Sander, who listened unusually well and asked Marina questions and talked about it later such that Oksana thought he actually learned something from it. She noted this down on her laptop that night, to tell Kathleen about it. 

On the flight back, Sander came up with more stuff out of the blue. Rather than discuss what any normal person would then have discussed, his grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins and Yekaterinburg, her son again threw her for a loop by spending most of the flight from Yekaterinburg to Munich trying to argue the case Sergei coming over for Thanksgiving dinner. She mentioned this holiday and was only thinking she would try to convince _him_ to come over, and before she knew it, she was in a discussion about Sergei.

Reason one was that Pete could see his father, the benefit of which seemed so self-evident to Sander it looked to be a burdensome project to try to talk him out of it. Argument two was that she herself could be right there and in control. She could hire the entire off-duty Port Charles police force. Argument three was that there could be several people there as a buffer, so that she need hardly talk to Sergei, who could not abscond with Pete without several witnesses to his dastardly crime. Sander would come himself, he assured her. Then there was Rosa and her nieces, Lisa and Diana. There was the entire Connor-Quinn family; Oksana agreed that, Sergei or no Sergei, as a nice way to show them some appreciation. There was Alexis, though she had brothers she might go to; still, she might drop by. Or invite the brothers, too, and maybe the nephew and his fiancee. Or invite the entire homeless shelter, or the National Guard, he continued, his list getting more and more absurd.

Oksana almost laughed in relief that on the flight from Munich to JFK, he fell asleep. The Atlantic crossing was peaceful. He was awake for the flight from JFK to Port Charles, but after she had those hours of peace to think, and considering that he continued to forget his awful use of her first name; she was afraid the sight of the city of Port Charles alone would mess that up; she agreed to the Connor family and the others, and said she would think about Sergei very seriously and talk to Peter about it. This appeared to be satisfactory to him, and he reverted to questions about his grandparents that he had not wanted to ask them.

Oksana sat back and felt more considerable more relaxed than she had since finding him, and answered these less stressful questions.


	75. Chapter 75

**Part 75**

Paul and Quinn were talking in the hospital cafeteria.

"Here's my idea," Paul said. "I'm going to cook Thanksgiving at my house, and have my parents over. You want to come?"

"OK. Later, I want to go over my folks."

"Why not invite them here, too? The more the merrier!"

"They're not having dinner there."

"Oh, at one of your grandparents?"

"No. Over at Peter's Mom's house - she invited them. I guess she wants to have a dinner for them, just to thank them, and she needs a lot of people there for another reason."

"Oh, them! They have to have 'another reason!' Pray, what might that be?"

"Only to have the father over, so he can see Peter."

"For which we need to call out the National Guard! Heaven help us! See how far getting too involved with the patient can extend!"

"Well, it's gone further than that. Who at first could have said? It's not a burden at this point. They're like friends."

"But they always need help!"

"They don't have extended family like we do."

"Your folks, my folks. If we were married, we would have this issue every year! So let's not add in the Russians from Hell, whatever their unpronounceable name is."

"_If._ But then you would ask me, at least, first, I presume?"

"Well. Of course."

"Why wouldn't you think I'd want to go to my folks? Leaving aside the Russians?"

"Every couple must have this issue. There's a way. It's never caused divorce, directly, that I know of. Heck, I say go see your folks tomorrow. Why bother with the Russians?"

"I'd like to see them."

"Visit them anytime! Visit them sometime when you don't have to help them with their visit from their father that is of international diplomatic importance. Take a day off. You don't need to be at work all day. And you don't get triple time for that. But as to visiting for their own merit, they have nothing to offer. Trouble only. Interest maybe. Watch a soap opera and stay out of their affairs - it's safer."

Quinn only shrugged. "I do want to see them. And their house. But mainly my folks, and that's where they're going."

"OK. If you want to get caught in World War III, that's your business."

Quinn made a face at him.


	76. Chapter 76

**Part 76**

A.J. Quartermaine was wearing a suit and tie. Quinn had always thought he was a particularly handsome man, and he could be very friendly when he was in the right mood. For some reason, he was in the break room Quinn no longer ever tried to determine why he was ever in any given part of the hospital other than his parents' or brother's offices.

"Hi!" he said, to Quinn, giving her the cup of coffee he had just poured and pouring another one for his own. "The prettiest nurse in PC General," he screwed up his eyes to read her name tag. "Q. Connor. How are things on this floor, Nurse Connor?"

He seemed to be very happy today.

"Fine," she answered. "I got the midnight shift for Thanksgiving Day, cut to six hours, still triple time, so I can sleep before dinner, and the football games, so I can't complain."

"Mighty fine. Mighty fine. Glad to hear it. Where are you going for dinner?"

"My parents, but they are going somewhere else, so I'm going with them. You?"

"We're all flying out of town," he answered, taking a sip. "To a secret location," his eyes danced with mischief. "To meet my younger sister."

"Oh, another undisclosed location? Like where she goes to college?"

"Yeah! How did you know?"

"That your sister goes to college at an undisclosed location?"

"Yeah!"

"Stuff like that gets around. Not much you can do about it. It's unusual. So somebody tells somebody else who tells somebody else. My patient told me, actually, Zander Smith, you know, who got shot instead of you?" She took a sip of coffee to observe him. "Doesn't that scare you? That someone wanted to shoot you, I mean?"

"Heck, no! I wish it had been me. Old pain-in-the-neck – Zander, you know – is still alive and kicking and probably reducing somebody else's life to a mess. Therefore, I'd have lived, too. Then I could have been your patient."

"Believe me, you would not think that it was worth it."

He laughed and left the room, saying, "Of course it would be! What's a little pain compared to seeing your face everyday! Have a great holiday, Nurse Connor!"


	77. Chapter 77

**Part 77**

Paul didn't find it difficult or boring to be a model. He had to lean against somebody or other's motorcycle. Elizabeth had borrowed it from a friend.

"It's more challenging to be an artist than I might have thought without knowing you like this," he said. "It's not all paint and brushes, but also finding props. You've got to find a model. You've got to find somebody with a motorcycle. Somebody willing to lend you their motorcycle. Did you ride it here yourself?"

"No," she laughed, "the owner brought it here to the track. Helped me set it up just right."

She told him a little bit about her life, which helped pass some of the time. 

"All physicians except you, in your family," he observed. "And your grandmother's a nurse. How did you manage to be different? Never mind. It's a good thing. Are you going to your grandmother's for Thanksgiving?"

"No, she's in Africa, doing some nursing over there. She will be back in the spring, but she wanted to go and do this, since she retired, for the good of mankind, you know. She raised my father who already has done a lot of that by working over in Bosnia for several years. And my mother is a doctor too, and being married to my father, she's the type doing good work in Bosnia, too."

"Haven't things settled down over there?"

"Not enough!"

"So when your sister graduates from medical school, do you think she will go to Bosnia? Or Africa? Or South America, or some island in the Pacific."

Elizabeth looked thoughtful. "I don't know," she said. "It will be interesting to find out."

"How odd for your parents to go over there when you were still in high school! Mind you, I could see going over there, but I think I'd have waited until you graduated from high school, or even college."

"Would you have? That's nice. Though the thing is, they didn't plan to be gone for more than a year, but then they realized we didn't want to leave Port Charles, you know, we were in high school then. So they thought it was just as well they stay there. My sister went to college over in England to be closer to them, and they have visited her there a lot, and I've been to London to see them there. They showed us pictures of the place they're staying at. I'm less worried now. Like you said, it's not so much of a war zone over there. My parents started this clinic or something that has been growing and doing well, so they keep at it."

"Do they have any psychiatrists?"

"They were talking about that. What people have been through over there is horrendous, obviously."

"What are you doing for Thanksgiving, then?"

"I usually go to one of my grandmother's friends, like Nurse Spencer's family."

"Drop by my place, if you can, later. My family is coming over my house."

"You and Quinn are 'doing Thanksgiving?'"

"Mostly me. I don't know how much help Quinn plans to be!"

He drew her a map to his house.


	78. Chapter 78

**Part 78**

His Thanksgiving had gone pretty well, Paul thought. Quinn had helped him with the cooking, after taking a nap, getting off at 6 a.m., and seemed to be in a fairly good mood. She got along well with his parents and his sister and her husband and their kids. They watched part of the game on T.V., and talked awhile, then his sister and her husband had to go visit his folks' for awhile, and then his parents left, and Quinn right after them, so that he was the only one there when Elizabeth Webber came to the door.

"Sorry I am here so late," Elizabeth said. "Looks like everyone is gone! Where's Quinn?"

"No problem, come on, have a seat. They went home, and Quinn went to her parents'."

"Don't you go with her?"

"I might have, but it worked out funny, because they are over those Russians', you know, Smith's family."

"You couldn't go there?"

"A thought, but it never came out as an option! The whole thing got difficult to settle as it was! Oh, well. She'll have to go and keep her comrades warm on her own!"

"You're a little upset?"

"I guess. I know it's more than I should be. What can a guy do? Smith's problems seem to intrigue Quinn and he always has a problem. Hey! Let's come up with a plan to perfect Smith's life!"

Elizabeth smiled, a Mona Lisa-like smile. "Hey! Let's come up with a plan to create peace in the Middle East."

Paul laughed. He felt happier than he had in days. "You deserve a drink for that!" he said, holding up two bottles. "Red or white?"

Later, he showed her around and told her his plans for various rooms. She had a few opinions of her own on both the remodeling and the decoration. He listened, recognizing that she was artistic, after all, so her opinions could be worthwhile.

The whole day had been better than he had thought it would be.


	79. Chapter 79

**Part 79**

Quinn found the house and pushed the button at the security gate. Someone took her name and seemed to consult with others, then opened the gate for her. She was charmed with the gatehouse. It had sections on both sides, and a cross-over-the top section, from which you could watch cars driving under, through the gate.

She drove up the drive and found a space in the large driveway area; she saw Danny's Ford and Joe's Buick. The house was gorgeous, and Quinn was curious to see it. She was also glad to see Alexis, and was introduced to Alexis' brothers, Stavros and Stefan. To her delight, her grandmother, Kathleen's mother, Ruth Hanley, was there, and her aunt, Kathleen's sister, Eileen, with her husband and three young children. The little ones furnished a lot of conversation; they were cute, with their little tricks and baby-talk - exactly the thing to keep everyone else behaving well.

The house was big enough for all these people. Oksana was very sweet to Quinn, and showed her all over it, and then even took her outside and showed her the pool and the tennis courts, where Peter and Tim and Zander and Brad were playing, not all that seriously, but hitting the ball around and cutting up. Oksana even introduced her to Sergei, who was watching this, and left her there to watch too, so she could go and get Quinn a glass of wine.

There was turkey and trimmings and everything else you could imagine, set up like a buffet, so that you could get your food and then go eat wherever you wanted, which kept things from getting too formal, as it might with everyone sitting at a big table. This way, nobody had to feel like there should be a grace or a toast or a speech, so even the slightest temporary awkwardness was eliminated. Quinn sat with Alexis and her brother Stefan, which was nice, because she could talk to someone new in the company of someone familiar, and Stefan was one of those people who look at you when you're there even if you know nothing of the topic, so that you feel included in the conversation anyway.

There eventually developed a touch football game on the lawn, which all males except Quinn's grandfather participated in. Even Joe Quinn ran around with the ball a little bit. Quinn brought out some cheers from high school, and Alexis and Rosa's nieces were willing to learn them. That they were cheers for "Mercy High" didn't get in the way of it. They mostly messed them up and laughed over it. 

Zander was in high spirits from this game, and so was Peter. Peter picked Quinn up and twirled her around out of sheer exuberance. "My cheerleader!" he declared.

"Put her down," said Zander.

"What, you think I'll drop her?" Peter asked, twirling her around so as to increase the chances of that misstep. 

"Yeah," Zander answered.

Peter put her down then, still laughing.

"This worked out all right," Quinn said in an undertone to both of them. "Would you say?"

"World War III has not broken out," Peter answered. "That means it worked out. Pretty cool, isn't it, Q? Do you like the house?"

"Yes. I really like the gatehouse. So picturesque."

"That's S – Zander's," Peter said. "Mom knows better than to even ask him to take one of the rooms for his, but I had the idea that gate house was perfect, and so she agreed."

"Thanks, Pete," Zander said. "But, . ."

"Oh, we know you refuse, Sandy" Peter waved his hand, "It's your house, whether you want it or not. Q. likes it. That makes it a good house."

"If you moved into it," Quinn said, "think how easy it would be for Pete to come and see you."

"Good girl, Q!" Pete exclaimed. "Great arguments!"

"That's the one that will work, if there's going to be an argument that does," Quinn replied.

Later Quinn asked Oksana, "Do you really keep that gatehouse for Z - Sander? Or is that Peter's imagination?"

Oksana smiled. "I did say it. I have not mentioned this to Sander yet, because I know he will say no. At least the first fifty times I make this suggestion. I let Peter work on it, and it can work quicker."

Quinn smiled. Oksana was right, she thought.

A little while later, when Quinn was talking to Zander and people were starting to leave, Oksana brought a key to the gatehouse to Zander, and told him he should look at it, and show it to Quinn before she left.

Quinn was enthusiastic to see it, and Zander was stuck where he could not refuse.

They walked down the drive. It was getting a little dark. It took him a little while to get the key to work.

There was no furniture inside. It could be made cozy though, Quinn said. Zander agreed with everything she said, so that she figured he was just biding time to get out of there.

The side at the left as you went out of the gate had a sitting room on, or living room type of room of a fairly good size and a bathroom without a shower or bathtub on the second story, and on the first, a kitchen a tiny dining room, a utility room, and a good sized entryway with a lot of places you could hang up coats and long benches in the hallway. "I guess people had to wait in here in the old days!" Quinn exclaimed. "Man! The upper classes!" She shook her head. Zander watched her and listened to her, amused.

The other side had a bathroom and two small bedrooms, one of the bedrooms being on the second story. Then there were double doors from each side into the connecting hallway.

"Odd choice of use of space," Quinn commented, while they were in the lower story bedroom. "I like it though. But why not just have a regular house?"

"I think you have to get up in the middle of the night if someone comes in," Zander said. "See, there's a door to the gate from this bedroom. Rich people! So demanding."

"This house could prevent divorce, or be a good place to be divorced. You live on your separate sides, but the kids can visit just by making the crossover."

Zander laughed. "Oh, good one. So _now_ we discover this!"

"Can Oksana get you to stay here?"

"Alexis should have her place to herself. And I can do better than a room over a bar. Hey, you found an apartment. Help me find one."

"Rent this place from Oksana."

"You know how that'll end up." 

"Maybe she'll let you pay it, even if in the long run it is only symbolic. She wouldn't know when you're coming and going. It is you who knows when she is."

"Yeah, that might be a good thing to know. But you can rent it."

"I like it. Maybe." She walked up into the hallway. There were windows. It was fun to look out. Neat when a car went out underneath. You could definitely hear the gates open and close.

"Things will settle down and it won't be any worse than me and my parents," Quinn said.

Zander looked out the window next to her. "I don't know about that. I'll never be like yours, Quinn, but I'm closer than I thought I would ever be. I have grandparents now."

"Were your grandparents they way you thought they would be?"

"No. I always had a hard time picturing them. If I ever thought about them, they looked like some other kids' grandparents. It's much better to know what they look like. So I took a lot of pictures. I wish I had them with me now. I wish I could show them to you, Quinn."

"Show them to me another time."

"I will. I can write them a letter. My uncle gave me an email address."

"How many uncles do you have?"

"Two. The oldest is Vadim. He has a wife Marina and three children," Zander replied. He rattled off the children's names. "Mikhail, who is divorced and has a daughter Irina. And an aunt, Yelena, who never seems to have been married, but she has a son, Pavel."

"That is so great! Who else did you meet?"

"My grandfather's sister and my grandmother's brother, with his daughter and granddaughter."

"So that makes 5 cousins, a second cousin, a first cousin once removed, and a great aunt and uncle."

"I've never had a uncle before," he said. She was looking at him, and he was gazing out the window, smiling slightly, as if this were the most wonderful present he had ever received. Quinn felt her eyes fill up a little bit, with a mix of sadness and joy for him. It was sad he had not known this before, but it was happy that he did now, happier than otherwise, because he did not take it for granted.

"Uncle Mikhail," she said, trying to pronounce it carefully. "Practice saying that."

He looked at her then, and explained, "They don't do it like that there, Quinn. If you are talking about him you say 'My uncle, Mikhail Nikolaevich', and to talk to him directly, you only call him "Uncle." Almost like "Grandma or "Dad."

"What happens if more than one of them is in the room?" Quinn asked. 

"I'm not sure! One evening, they were both there, but I didn't have a situation where I needed to distinguish between them while talking to one of them."

"I like it. There is something about that I like. Like you say, it makes more of that relationship."

"I liked it all. It was great. You don't know them at all, but you look like them. They treat you like you belong to them even when it's the first time they've ever seen you."

"Sometimes I've heard that. I have these relatives in far away places. For example, some cousin of my mom's I've never met lives in Montana or some such place, and she got to talking about them, and I said I'd like to see Montana and it was too bad I didn't know them. She said, forget it, if you show up on their doorstep and tell them who you are, they will welcome you."

"I like that story. Poor Dad. He's the one who doesn't have it."

"Do you ever ask him about where he grew up?"

"He doesn't seem to like to talk about it. Mom either. She did tell me a little bit when we were over there."

"What did she tell you?"

"Remember asking me what religion I was?"

"Of course," she sat down on the floor, and stretched out a little, leaning against the wall. He sat down against the opposite side of the wall. A car swooshed under.

"I asked her about it. There were cathedrals and churches and nunneries all over the place. When she was a girl, growing up there, they were all museums. Now, they are back to being churches, a lot of them. Some are still museums, but they are historical now, she said. But when she grew up these museums, the government, tried to make out as it religion belonged in a museum. Like the horse and buggy, that sort of thing. It was so primitive, it only belonged in museums. The teacher would take them to this museum and they would learn a little bit about the religion, from that. So that was all."

"When your parents came to the US they were free to look into it."

"I guess they must not have had time to think about that, or didn't know what to do or how to ask. Some people thought we were atheists, but we weren't really. Not like it was a conscious decision that way. If someone asked, the only thing to say was 'none.'"

"More like agnostic, where you don't know. With no traditions. If you have a religion, it has traditions. If you don't have a religion, there's no substitute for all that."

"I remember in the hospital you told me about the weddings and baptisms and funerals. Now I think I have to ask them that! What did they do in the Soviet Union, not have funerals? Weird. What happened when somebody died? Nobody got baptized, OK. They got married, though."

"I wonder why. If you're an atheist, and everyone is, then why worry about that either?"

"I guess they still have to get some feeling they were committed, or they'd move in and out and no family would be stable. They didn't have much reason to care, though. Maybe they thought people worked better or raised the kids better that way."

"So what did they do on Sunday?"

"They had that day off, I know."

"That's almost like a vestige of religion."

"When we lived there, people were interested in the churches, only because they could now and they were curious. We were as confused as they and used to not being curious, I think. We never went into one unless a friend specifically invited us. Between here and there we don't know what we are."

"That would be what you would have been, without the history of that country and then yours."

"They didn't have Christmas. Even when we were there, it was not a big deal. They made a big deal of New Year's Day, which they still do."

"No Christmas trees, or presents?"

"We had all that, but it was for New Year's."

"Interesting. And no Easter, and no Thanksgiving."

"There was Easter when we were there. There was a day for men, and a day for women. A big day in May about the war. A big day in June about the new constitution. There was a day in November to celebrate the communist revolution but they changed the name of it to be about something else, but people would not stop taking that day off."

"How did you get used to no Thanksgiving?"

"Easy, it was nothing to everybody around you, so it was nothing to you."

"Yeah, that would be the way. Still, was it odd to be in school on a day like Christmas Day?"

"If you thought about it. But you had to be thinking of the date. Realize that oh, today is Thanksgiving Day. But we weren't in school on Christmas Day. It was a holiday. Just not a big deal of a holiday, like it is here."

"I like Thanksgiving, though."

"Most people do. The Quartermaines don't appreciate it. They have a ridiculous tradition, where they eat pizza. I forget how it came about."

"How depressing! I can't get into that. But do you want to know where Little Emily is spending her Thanksgiving?"

"She could have come home for it, I suppose. Did you see her?"

"Oh, no, no, no. I saw AJ, and asked him what they were doing, as he asked me. Just small talk. They are flying to a secret, undisclosed location to meet her."

"They may as well go to the Caribbean as stay here. They can go anywhere they can get a pizza."

"I guess. But they're still concerned she'll run into you, obviously!"

He shrugged. "They didn't have to bother," he said.

"What did you to do Little Emily? Just what _did_ you put her through?"

He laughed, because she obviously thought it was silly and was disposed to see it his way. "I was lonely and in jail. She took the time to talk to me. She was one of the few people being nice to me at the time. It was flattering. But, I believe, in the long run, you were right. It is better to have Oksana and argue with her than it is to have no one. Then you can become artificially over attached to anyone who is kind to you."

"And as a result, terrible things happened to her."

"First thing was, by coming to see me so much, she lost her boyfriend, Juan."

"And her grades suffered?"

"Her grades were good. She talked to me about her homework and what she was doing. In fact, Juan _complained_ that her grades were good. He thought that her parents would not let her talk to me if only her grades were bad."

"Her _boyfriend_ came to see you?"

He laughed. "Yeah, he did. A couple of that times. And when you're that alone, and locked up in jail, it's not all that bad. Even people who don't like you are a break. Her mother came, her father, her friend Lucky. Her oldest friend. He told me her was her oldest friend. He tried to claim he was her best friend, but she had already told me Elizabeth was."

"What else were you preventing her from doing?"

"Everything, I guess. Lucky said she would have been homecoming queen. Her brothers claimed she would have been on sports teams. But she never mentioned any sports she used to play before, and if she had, I'm sure she would have told me about it."

"They can never prove she would have been homecoming queen, for crying out loud. It sounds like she never did any sports anyway."

"There was her parents big move of sending her away to a private school all the way in California"

"Just because she liked you?"

"As far as they ever told me, that was the only reason. And they did it in January of her senior year, so they probably had never planned it before."

"You must have really sympathized with that, having your own school years messed up! But that was mean of them! What a big change that is, and what a bad time for it. And then having to graduate from a school you went to only your last semester!"

"I went all the way there to get her. We came back on a bus."

"All those hours in bus, and she didn't ask you about your family or anything?"

"I know that's amazing to you, Quinn. But she didn't. She just talked about everything she felt. Then when I had to testify in court, her family complained that it was traumatic for her. She sat through the trial when she wasn't in school. She was supportive. She didn't complain, but her family and her oldest friend did – the usual stuff she missed out on. Sports. School parties. Dates."

"But if she really wanted to be a lawyer, it would have been a good thing to do for that."

"Yeah. Either they didn't believe her about that, or they never thought of that. Then came her grandfather and his story. We went to the police station. Suddenly she changed. That was awful! The worst night of my life. Well, maybe there were a couple worse, but I'd gotten over them. Then the prom. Oh, that was a disaster, of course."

"Of course. She would have been the prom queen."

He laughed. "You're right! None of them said that, but they should have, shouldn't they? The forgot. She deserved to be there with the prom king. Or captain of the football team. Which I suppose Scott was."

"No. I was the prom queen. He was the prom king only because of that!"

"Still, I know he must be exactly what Emily's parents would want her to date. Another thing I ruined for her was the big party at Deception. Elizabeth had been a model, or wanted to be. Emily claimed she had been a model herself, in the past. I never saw it. Somebody put her a picture of her head on a picture of a nude body and put it on the internet. Ended that career."

"Why should it end that career?"

"It did. Less than perfection equals failure, to them, it must be. Anyway, she wanted me to go to this party with her. Elizabeth was under consideration for being their main model. But Elizabeth didn't want Emily to bring me there."

"Why would Elizabeth lose out because Emily brought you there?"

"I don't even remember any more. Maybe it would look bad if her best friend was there with a criminal. Who knows what goes on in a place like that? Now, Elizabeth says didn't know me and wouldn't think that way again. She was impressed that Emily gave up this party for me. One of Emily's brothers came to me, complaining that she missed it. It would have been fun; it would have helped her with her own modeling career, and so on."

"Which was over, and her own choice not to continue, before she even met you."

"They never see it that way."

"Maybe they want her to go out for sports and she doesn't, and you because a convenient vent to their frustrations. I mean, maybe it doesn't have much to do with you."

"That could be. She never complained about not having time for anything. But you could have a point. When they couldn't convince her is when they came to me. Her brother came to me and wanted me to tell her not to come to jail and see me. I realized they must not be able to convince her not to. But I liked her. I couldn't tell her I didn't, which they wanted me to. I thought that was too cruel."

"Didn't they try to get to know you?"

"Never. Later, much later, her mother made some noise about how if Emily saw something good, ergo, I must have some good points."

"They don't normally seem to trust her judgment. In fact, they don't trust their influence over her anything like they trust yours. But they let her go off to college on her own. Don't they think the college could be crawling with Svengalis? They pay you compliment in a way. You have these amazing powers. They have to take these desperate measures. Move her to a school across the country. Fake attacks to try to get you in jail. She has no ability to resist. You powers are so extensive, that you are responsible for her decisions in their eyes."

"But I felt she was always about to slip away."

"She stuck by you."

"I know it seems like that. Still, it felt very conditional. I could screw up, or somebody else could say something and screw it up any time. I never saw it, because her words were so kind. Trouble is romantic, to her."

"She'll be sorry then, for the trouble she missed!"

"Probably. From now on, I intend to have no trouble, as far as she's concerned."

"Then move in here. In fact, move in with your Mom. Get the tutor. Let Mom get you a nice car. Keeps you off the street. Play tennis. You need something you're good at. Peter goes on about how good you are at that."

"I haven't played since I lived in Russia."

"What else did you play?"

"I was on the soccer team, and the swimming team, and I learned ice skating."

"You liked sports."

"Yes. They give medals. I got a couple. I had an advantage because I had been able to do swimming and tennis year round in Florida."

"Where are they?"

"Where are what?"

"These medals."

"Oh. I don't know. I suppose Dad has them."

"Ask him for them. You need some reminders of some thing good about yourself."

"Like your pom poms and your photo of the cheerleading squad?"

"How do you know?"

"Pete showed me all that! He's the tour guide of your parents' house!"

Quinn laughed at this. "What an interesting state of affairs. When I first saw you, I never dreamed it would end up that this patient's brother would eventually come to town and be able to conduct a tour of my folks' house!"

"He can! It has come to that, Quinn!"

"Or that you could speak a foreign language. Didn't you have trouble? An accent?"

"No. At first there would be words I didn't know. Especially slang. But other kids there were nice. They helped me. Not like here, where they would make fun of a kid who is different."

"What were the teachers like?"

"Stern and strict. Everybody was quiet. Nobody would shout or fool around in a classroom. They were nice to talk to, though. They helped you with anything you had a hard time with. They never said you were stupid and there was no question you were going to graduate and do something with your life. They didn't act like you were a jerk for not already knowing. You didn't have to figure out what year you were and what class you were supposed to be in. All you had to do was study."

"You had good grades there, Mom said."

"Yes. I liked the way they did tests. They were oral. When it was your turn, you went before this panel of teachers. They asked you questions and you stood there and answered. You could even write on the blackboard."

"I'd have hated that! I'd have flunked! The pressure would have killed me!"

"It's easier, really. You get used to that way."

"Maybe you should move in with Oksana. If you really concentrate, you could get your education straightened out, with the tutor and everything." 

"I only wonder what she will want in return."

"What could she want now?"

"I don't know. She never was bossy on little things."

"Maybe she doesn't want anything. You're her son, that's all. I know. Watch how she does with Pete! You'd have more freedom than he, too."

"Yeah. She considers him different, though. She probably trusts his judgment more."

"Maybe not. You made some good decisions recently."

"I do feel much – less alone, I think is the best way to put it."

"You have been dealing with so much. Go easy on yourself awhile."

"Some of it is good."

"Yes."

"It feels like it was a century ago, that I was in that high school and getting arrested. Having Oksana and Sergei around is not as bad as I thought it would be. It got all out of proportion. If I had a family, I might have ended up in jail, but I never would have been involved with an immature high school girl like Emily. I would have done the right thing, patted her on the head, said her attention was flattering and said some boy in that high school would be a lucky guy."

"Her grandfather went to a great deal of trouble to get you apart from her. A lot of trouble. He must have been sure she'd follow you to the end of the universe and there was nothing he could do about it. Then her parents sending her to that school like that! That is a lot of trouble to go to. And she was going to leave college and live with you, while you put her through PCU? She'd have been giving up the perks of being rich, for you!"

"Those aren't so hard to give up as you may imagine. True, she wasn't spoiled that way. When we got back from California, she got a room over Kelly's and started working as a waitress there. She went to school still, and got good grades. It wasn't a really long time, though. I think if there was no excitement, only the grind and hard work, she'd find some way out. Mind you, she wouldn't say, I can't deal with this, I have to go back to my wealthy parents. She'd finagle some way to make it look like it was my fault. You know, mentally twist something so that she could again tell me she was leaving because she didn't love me. I really don't think she ever did, now. I get it now. I couldn't then. I'm just lucky that she bailed out when she did. "

"Maybe you can thank this phantom heart condition for getting your back your family."

"And Alexis. And Quinn, of course, the investigative nurse. And full of ideas for the future, now, aren't you? Now let's discuss yours."

"Boring."

"Because you graduated from high school and were a cheerleader and the homecoming queen and the prom queen -"

"Well, now, let's not exaggerate. I was not the homecoming queen."

"Amazing! But, you have your college degree, always have a boyfriend, and if you didn't 20 guys would immediately call. You have a godfather and parents who really love you and aren't just saying so. You have a good job as a professional. If you don't marry this doctor, you marry some other really successful guy, but even if you wanted to marry a gas station attendant, your parents will not have the least objection; they trust your judgment that much."

"No, I'm not perfect. I drift into what seems like the thing to do, the right thing to do, without thinking. I can't complain about what I have, and it is good to have parents who think I should follow my heart. It's not easy, though. I thought I was. I am not the queen of non commitment like Joanna thinks. Something must be wrong with me, or something. I just wish they'd wait a little longer before pushing it."

"But they don't."

"I can follow my heart. It does not go fast enough for other people! I think my heart wants some time, is all. Why does it have to be either/or by a certain date? Isn't there enough of that in the rest of stuff you have to do?"

"There has to be some end. You and Paul could be 60 or 70 before you could decide."

"OK, I'll have decided before then. Maybe by 50."

"There's some limit to your parents, too. But it is too hard to push. I pointed out this grease monkey at the track, and Danny claimed that if you loved that guy, he's go right along with it."

"Danny told you that? I'd almost like to test them. I think I'll go and visit the jail tomorrow."

Zander laughed. "I can show you where it is. But I'd rather show you my pictures."

"OK. Call me on Sunday when I've had a chance to sleep after the midnight shift."

It was so late, Zander wanted Quinn to stay at Oksana's house. She wouldn't, and he wanted to drive her home.

"I'll call you and let you know I'm safe and sound, if you want."

"OK. But do it."

"Only if you stay here."

He looked at the house. It was late.

"OK," he said.

He would not go into the house until she drove away all right. She laughed and would not drive away until he went into the house. They both laughed, and he walked in while she pulled across the circular driveway to where it passed the front door. He went in and looked at her from a front window next to the front door. She drove off then, waving.


	80. Chapter 80

**Part 80**

Sunday evening, Quinn sat across from Zander at the Outback, looking at the pictures he had taken, across the table.

"I thought I of you instantly when I saw my grandmother," he said, pointing to the elderly woman in the pictures, "I remember you asking me if I was part Asian."

"I guess so!"

"I used to see Asian people in Moscow, who were obviously from Siberia, or way to the east, tourists there to see their capital. My grandmother said her father came from another city to the east. To work in the big factories there. Like she did, and my grandfather did, too."

"Oksana never had a picture of her parents?"

"No. Would you have left your country knowing you couldn't come back, without at least a picture?"

"Maybe it would have been suspicious to carry it."

"I hope so! I'd hate to think she's _that_ unsentimental."

"She didn't have any from more recently, when she took Peter there?"

"Maybe. I never thought of asking her for one."

"You thought of going to see them for real, first. That's better. This is all so neat. You really belong to this family, anybody could tell!"

He smiled.

"What's this?" she asked.

"This is the Novo-Tikhvin Nunnery, which has a sacred number of ponds and its own little river. See my little cousin, running by that wall. That is a pond beyond there. And it had more nuns than any other in the Ural mountains, and 8 churches and a hospital. The nurses must have been mostly nuns in the old days. The Russian word for nurse is 'medical sister.'"

"So I'd be saying 'I'm a medical sister?'"

"Yes. Like the tooth doctor. Dad told us he was taking us to the tooth doctor one day, so I said, very funny, what is the word for dentist. He repeated: tooth doctor. That's it!"

"What is a sacred number of ponds?"

"I forget!"

"Shouldn't you remember that?"

"I hardly learned a thing about my religion. See after the Revolution of 1917 the nunnery was deserted. No religion allowed after that. So now you just have these ruins."

"It's gorgeous," she said.

"That is the Cathedral of St. Alexander of the Neva, one of the churches in the nunnery. And the architect, Malakhov, was famous in Yekaterinburg and created many of these buildings. And this is the Church of the Ascension. There must be a hundred churches in Yekaterinburg with these shiny gold domes."

"I like the blue walls. It has the same rounded windows as the other church."

"That might be one of the unique features - See, there is Marina, Vadim's wife - my aunt, standing in front of the church. She got a degree in architecture. She told me about this, and that they this architecture unique to Yekaterinburg."

"This looks like a whole Roman City."

"It is just one house, built for a family, but ended up being a Soviet Institute for something-or-other."

"This is a handsome man," she said, looking at a picture of a man standing on a set of wide terrace.

"That's my uncle, Mikhail, you want to marry him and get him his green card?"

"Now there's a good reason to get married," Quinn declared.

Sunday evening, Paul went to Elizabeth's studio to pose for her to finish things up.

"Now I can do the finishing touches," she said. "You're off the hook."

He was afraid there was no way to see her again.

"Maybe I can see it when you're finished with it?"

"Of course."

As he was leaving, he came up with an idea. "Hey, would you help me pick out paint for the house? You're pretty good with colors."

"Sure. It's the least I could do, after you posed all that time for me."

"Oh, I don't mean it like that. I didn't mind it at all."

"Then I won't mind looking for paint, either."

She went to the door with him, and opened it slowly. He tried leaving, but instead closed the door and very suddenly kissed her. Her arms went around his waist as she kissed him back passionately. He felt like he was going wild, and finally got a hold of himself, but turned and kissed her again. When he finally recovered from that, he opened the door and left.

Laura Spencer was talking to her sister-in-law Bobbie, at the counter at Kelly's. Bobbie and Laura's husband owned Kelly's, and so the two could sit and drink as much coffee as they wanted.

Laura had been talking of her partner, Carly, or, actually, Sonny, Corinthos. Carly's arrest had created bad publicity, though it had not lessened Carly's hours or her contribution, since she had not done much to start with. She was ready to take the credit for being a big shot executive so long as she didn't have to do any actual work. 

"Now he's withdrawing all of the investment. I don't even know if that's legal. Everything is running well, but it will crash if I don't replace him. Even if I sued him and won, I couldn't keep the business running at present. The bank won't give me another dime. They already own my house and my husband's bar.

"Maybe your son would help?" Bobbie suggested.

Laura sighed. It was a thought, but she hated it.

She saw her son's aunt coming in. "Alexis," she said, when Alexis came up to the counter. "What do you think about this?" She described the problem. Bobbie poured Alexis a cup of coffee. "On the house," she said.

"Well, I think he's a rat. I suppose you got a written contract that's not worth the paper it's on? He can't take money out of a corporation on his whim."

"To hear him talk, you would think he could. The board of directors is just him and me. Or just her and me." Laura rolled her eyes. "She has 51. She never shut up about how that means we do what she wants."

"That's what they say, but it isn't that simple. They have fiduciary duties to the corporation. But that doesn't help much with day to day operations. Having to go to court is not an easy thing, or a cheap thing. Do you think he will carry through on these threats?"

"I think so. Even if he doesn't, I know he'll keep it up and do it again in the future. We have no stability."

"Wait, I have an idea," Alexis said.

"An idea?" Bobbie said, encouragingly.

"An investor. A potential investor. Someone I know. Would you want to meet this person?"

"Yes," Laura said, cautiously. "If you think there is a chance it will work out. As soon as possible."

"OK. I'll call you." Bobbie handed Alexis the cup of coffee with great enthusiasm, as Alexis turned to leave.


	81. Chapter 81

**Part 81**

"He's not your problem," Oksana was saying, in Gail's office. "Peter is my problem."

"Oh, he's not? Well, you can still hear my opinion! I can have one! I know what it is like to be where he still is, Mom. I guess you forgot about that." Zander fidgeted in his chair.

"I mean, he's not your worry. He's my worry."

"I'm not trying to interfere with your legal ruling over the whole thing, Mom! You've worked hard to earn that! I only said I could help with Pete seeing Dad. And my friend, Joe Quinn, who said he would help."

"I think what your Mom means is that it is something you should not be responsible for. You're young. You shouldn't have this problem," Gail said.

"I don't think going to the speedway with Joe and Pete to work on cars with Dad is a problem. If it is, I can handle it," Zander said with certainty.

"Should you be handling it?" Gail replied, "That is the question. It's not as casual as you got it to sound just now."

"I don't know. But I don't want him to get caught up in what we used to be. We only get one parent at a time. He's older now and he can handle it. And we're saying someone else will always be there. So Joe and I can do that."

"Dr. Baldwin, she is right," Oksana said. "She understands. I'm not worrying about that part. Only that I handle it and you don't have to. You study. You take out a girl. You don't go to supervise a visitation." 

"Why not? It does not end my entire social life to go there every once in awhile. Maybe part of my social life is I like to hang out with Dad and Pete. You're only saying that so we don't see Dad."

"No, I talk to Pete, he wants to see him. We will work out a way. Including you. But for you to be supervisor, it is not fun. Take Quinn out instead."

"OK, I get what you mean, Mom, but it's still not a big deal. Quinn would not mind going to the speedway, even, and being there for Pete."

"Why - Quinn is to have a good time on that errand? Think of something more fun."

"It is fun to hang out there."

"Get the point, Zander," Gail said. "Go do something fun only, with no responsibility. You're too young for all this stuff. Let the adults take care of Peter, visitation. I know you don't think much of the job they did in the past. Still, they're the adults, it's their job, and they may even be better at it by now than you are."

Zander looked at her, a weak sort of smile crossed his face. "I never thought I was better at it than they are. I wasn't looking at it that way. It's all I can think of to do."

"Let it go," Gail laughed. "You be the brother; let your mother be the mother."

"He's my son also," Oksana said. "But I feel like he's some kind of cop."

Zander looked at her, light dawning on his face.

"Next week, I want the report on your homework," Gail smiled, looking at him, "Zander, on what fun stuff you did."

Paul and Elizabeth wandered through the paint store. It was like a magical garden. It smelled of paint, but it might have been perfume for all they cared. 

Elizabeth picked the colors out, matching them in her memory. Looking through the books standing next to him, her arm touched his sleeve every once in a while. He was more aware of this than of any color.

It was humid and her hair was extra curly, and her eyes were radiant. She was usually rather pale, but today she had color in her cheeks. She came up to his shoulder, so if she stood in front of him, he could lean his chin on the top of her head. She smiled at this. He could not see that from where he stood, of course. But he knew she smiled.

Going out to the car, he held her hand as they walked, recklessly, though there wasn't much chance they would see anyone they knew.

He dropped her off at PCU, getting a long, long, kiss before she jumped out and grabbed her artists' portfolio. He watched her walk away, then drove off.

Zander met Amanda Friel at Oksana's house. Oksana picked the big room at the side of the house, with windows to the ground, and double doors opening onto a patio, looking out onto the garden. Then she had bookshelves and some storage cabinets put in; reference books put on the shelves; and a big table and chairs placed in the middle of the room. Looking out into the garden, Zander could see Lisa Benitez, the elder of Rosa's two nieces, looking around or directing a worker. 

Amanda talked over the general plan with him. She let him ask whatever he wanted to ask. It was logical to start in earnest after Christmas vacation, she said, so until then, she wanted to assign him a few things, one at a time, just to get him back to a studying/school mode. She was not going to make any test for him on these things, and he was not to be overly concerned about what he might not understand of it.

When he got fidgety, she proposed they walk in the garden. She asked him about school in Russia.

She told him she thought he would be able to pass a GED exam in a very little time. She asked him if he wanted to take a practice one right away, to see where he stood, even before he started reviewing anything.

He liked that idea.

"I liked taking the tests," he said. "I liked the oral exams the best, but I remember I liked the tests better than teachers talking. They were like a game compared to that."

"Hmmm," she said. "Interesting. I'll give you a novel to read. Do you have anything you want to read?"

"I have no idea. Something about the Irish?"

"OK," she went along, not worrying about where that idea came from. "I'll pick something. You read it. OK?"

"OK," he answered.

Paul and Quinn went to the Outback, and he told her.

She looked down. She covered he face with her hand. She looked very upset.

Paul had not expected that reaction.

"I wouldn't do this to you; but I can't not. It feel so exactly right. I guess you were right. I couldn't give this up, no way. I felt strange the minute I met her. It is impossible to explain."

She turned her head and motioned him away. "You deserve it. I'm happy for you."

"But you look depressed."

"For myself, is all."

"I don't want to leave you here. "

"I'll call a friend."

"Will you? I want to make sure you do."

"Go away, and I'll call."

"Why, you don't want me to know who you call?"

"Why should you?"

He shrugged, though uncomfortably. She was right.

He went towards the door, and watched her dial and talk to someone. Then he left.

At Kelly's, Laura had Deception's financial statements and brochures and other information spread out. Alexis and Oksana were looking at them.

Laura explained the company made perfume and cosmetics and was trying to branch out into facial treatments and lotions. 

Oksana agreed to have her accountant look at the books. In the afternoon, Laura gave Oksana a tour of the company. Alexis was along for it, and congratulated herself on her brainstorm. She thought it might turn out to be one of her better efforts.  
Quinn had called Joanna, who had come to the Outback to get her; she had been so out of sorts. She had even wanted to go to her parents' house rather than her own place.

Danny came into her room with a present; a photo of Jeff Gordon. "Now you're free, you can start looking at some other guys. Here's a specimen." He sat on the bed beside her, patted her on the back several times, tried to cheer her by cajoling her to admit Jeff Gordon was a great looking guy, even he could tell that. He kissed the top of her head and put his arm around her and hugged her sideways. She smiled in spite of her blue feelings. After he went out, she looked at the picture. She propped it up against another frame. Well, Jeff was a looker, she thought. 

Kathleen hugged her a couple of times, and wanted to celebrate by going shopping for some cool clothes to wear out on dates. She then realized then Quinn needed a little time before talking of such thing, and brought her a cup of tea.

Quinn went down to the living room for awhile. Tim grabbed her and waltzed her around the living room. She had to laugh at this.

Brad, sensing this was not quite the celebration the others thought, let her beat him at a few video games. 

When they next met, at the Port Charles Grill, Oksana said her accountants thought, from looking at the books, that Deception had ties to organized crime. Oksana said she would have nothing to do with that.

Alexis was amazed. How had they figured that out?

Laura admitted it, but insisted it was the withdrawing partner.

Oksana asked for assurance that he would be out completely.

Alexis piped up and said they could do a whole new corporation.

Alexis was starting to see the potential for Deception - she had never really been impressed with it before, and knew it was subject to disaster, because most of the money was Sonny's. But it was up and running, and Alexis mind started spinning with what it could do if it were a real company.

"We can call the new one 'Deception Designs' or some variation like that," Alexis assured Oksana. "Still using the company name publicly, we don't have to change that. Leave the old corporation to go defunct. You and Laura would own the new one's shares."

Alexis pulled out the report from Oksana's accountant to show Laura how it could work. If Oksana would own 65, it would be greater than Sonny's 51, true, she said, "but at this point you want to keep it going, and 65 control is no worse than 51 control."

"Don't I know it," Laura said, "I have heard repeatedly from both of them about how that one little percent makes them the boss. Him. Or her. Or both. Control. I am sick of that word."

"So," Alexis said, "you can figure in, also, that a legitimate investor is so much better for company potential, that this 35 you would have is actually a more solid position, and worth more, in reality, than 49 of a mob operation."

Laura was more than convinced, and promised Oksana that Sonny would be gone, gone, gone, as if he had never existed.

They agreed to go forward right there.

Laura felt great about the fact a real investor thought that Deception was worth it. She positively danced into the house that night. The situation had gone from oppressive and stressful to hopeful and excited. She waited with impatience for Sonny to carry out his "threat."

He did, with all the dramatics he usually did, and Laura was secretly glad she could admit to herself that she found Sonny and his wife extremely tiresome. She could tell he thought she was going to come back later begging him to return. She nearly smirked at his retreating back.

Luke was happy because she was happy.

The day Oksana moved people in was exciting and almost festive. Laura introduced Lucky to her.

As soon as he could, Lucky went to Elizabeth to tell her of this new development.

Elizabeth was strangely distant. He hadn't seen her in a couple of weeks. He thought she should know this.

"Why?" Elizabeth asked. She was helping move some people in and the whole atmosphere gave her the inkling that the change was good. "So Zander's mother is part of this company now. Big deal."

Lucky pointed out Emily probably wanted a summer job there.

"Don't know if she'll get it now."

Lucky was shocked at how cavalier Elizabeth's attitude was today.

He knocked on the door to her studio apartment later that evening. She would not let him in. He insisted, and started pushing the door open, gently, and not angrily, not a thing he thought would upset her; but she got very angry and asserted that it was her studio and he couldn't just come in.

"I know you're upset with me," he said. "I thought we might be able to talk it over, is all."

"Nope," she said, "All over."

"Elizabeth!" he exclaimed, "I know we had a fight. But we didn't break up! What are we doing to do?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Elizabeth said, and she shut the door.

He wondered if he was talking to Elizabeth's evil twin. He decided to go back to Kelly's for now.

Over the years, Elizabeth had kept her room at Kelly's, usually staying in his; staying at her studio, though he opposed it, only when she got so involved in a project she couldn't get herself to quit. The last couple of weeks she had stayed there full time, he knew, because she was avoiding him. She had never stayed away that long before, but that didn't mean they wouldn't get back together like they had before. He could hardly recall the argument now.

He thought to himself he was going to be rather angrier at her if she was pushing him out because Jason was there. He looked around for the motorcycle. Jason was always posing as somebody cool when he was off duty at the hospital, by wearing a leather jacket and driving a motorcycle. Jason wouldn't have hidden it; he always made a point of leaving it where Lucky could see it. But today it was not there.

And she was so totally different than she usually was. Whatever was up was different this time.

On the way to get her car the next day, when Joanna came to the house and picked her up, Quinn vowed not to drift, and not to go out with any other guy for at least six months.

Joanna smiled, wondering how long this would really last.

Later in the day, Joanna noticed the rumor mill was in full gear. Quinn had not told anyone, and she hadn't. Paul must have. There as no other way for it to be around so much. Every man in that hospital who was anything close to free, unattached, unmarried or single, patient or employee, appeared to smile when he found out.

"I saw several whose eyes lit up," she told Quinn, relating her impression.

"Because they think the queen of non commitment must be a whole lot of fun."

"No."

"I'm not. I'm not having anything to do with any of that. Right now, the whole subject is depressing."

"OK, you can have to the end of the year, how's that? To mend from this experience."

"Yes, captain. But I can't help thinking - if he would have only given me a little more time, it would all have worked out. Logically, it had to."

"This is not logic we are talking about."

"The way he described it, no. It sounds like lunacy."

On a break, Joe came. Quinn and Joanna were standing at the low-traveled end of a hallway. Joe hugged Quinn and looked enquiringly at Joanna.

"I think she's doing a little better," Joanna said.

"She's sad."

"Oh, Joe you're the only one that doesn't tell me I should be happy, Quinn said, mournfully, "I feel worse knowing everyone thinks I should be happy."

"There are a few pages ahead of you, and need to stop and back up a bit," he answered.

He took a wheelchair and opened it up; then took her arm, and motioned for her to sit in it. She protested a little at his breach of the rules, but sat down, too mentally tired to object more. He wheeled her down a ramp and onto a the rooftop patio. Joanna looked after them a second, then went back to the nurse's station, determining to pick up a little of the slack for Quinn.

Zander had been in for an EKG and when it was over, came by say hello. Joanna explained what happened. He looked off for a second. Another one glad to hear about it, Joanna smiled to herself. She showed him the hall and told him Joe had wheeled her off in a wheelchair down the ramp at the end.

Zander walked down the ramp, then came into an atrium area, with glass walls that looked out onto the rooftop patio. He saw them then, out near the railing-wall.

He looked at them for a little while. She was still sitting in the wheelchair, with gold-colored scrubs on, and with her hair up in the French braid he had seen so often. Joe stood next to her, his back to the wall, looking down at her, listening to her and squeezing her shoulder every now and then. She looked sad. Zander saw a big tear fall down her cheek, and saw that she wiped it away quickly. He felt overwhelmed with her sadness for a minute. He decided to leave them alone; he could talk to her later, and he knew her godfather could do more to get her feeling better than anyone else.

Later, Zander called her up and said he hoped she didn't feel too bad about it all.

"Thank you," she said. He had never heard her voice that spiritless before. "I know you can empathize. I don't think I'll ever like the Outback again!"

"It's a good place," Zander said. "Don't let that wreck it for you. You liked it before. I am determined to undo that."

She laughed. "How?" she asked.

"Tape over it," he continued. "Rosa and her nieces and Pete and I were planning to go out to dinner. We'll go there and you can come with us. You don't have to be the life of the party. With Rosa and Pete there, you don't have to say a word and who'll notice?"

She sighed. She didn't feel like it. But she smiled at the thought of Pete in spite of herself, and said, "OK."

In the end she was glad she went. Pete talked about the soccer team, and how had he made a goal in their last game, and asked her to come to the next one. "I have my own cheerleader. I have been bragging, and the guys think I am making it up," he explained.

They talked over Tim and his Russian. Pete thought Tim was doing OK – better than he thought he was. 

Rosa was kind, and her nieces were friendly. Lisa was 20 and Diana was 18. They were doing all right with their first autumn chill. Lisa said she liked having a jacket – she claimed never to have owned one before. Diana liked the leaves falling and turning colors. All three liked the town; it was so different from Miami and that made it interesting. Quinn offered to help them find anything they needed.

Quinn found this group about ideal to get her mind off of things. She thanked them as they were leaving, and told Zander it was working. The Outback was going to make it and remain on Quinn's list. He laughed, and tugged at her long braid. "You'll be fine," he said.


	82. Chapter 82

**Part 82**

In the late morning, Zander was waiting for Alexis to call him upon getting out of court. He passed this time at Kelly's, opening up the office mail and writing things in the calendar where they indicated it was necessary.

Paul and Elizabeth came in and up to the counter, looking for a cup of coffee. Paul had on an expensive suit and tie, and Elizabeth looked like an art student in a flowery skirt with high heels. Yet they looked well matched.

He glared at both of them.

"The brilliant, happy pair," he said sarcastically.

Paul looked like he was about to say something, but thinking the better of it and staying silent, and trying to come up with something better to say instead. He heard Elizabeth say, reassuringly, "It's OK, Zander. Talk to Quinn. You can do more good going to Quinn."

"You are amazing," Paul said to her, when they got outside, coffee in hand. She stood up on her toes and kissed him. "You told him he could do _more_ good talking to Quinn. As if he was actually doing _some_ good right there!"

She smiled. "He needs positive vibes," she answered. "I know him well enough to know he's had enough criticism to last a life time."

"Brilliant," Paul said, "I will remember it."

"We can keep Smith in line," she answered, smiling up at him sweetly, sipping coffee.

"Well, if we can do that, we can do anything!" he answered, "but I am a little concerned about Quinn. She didn't seem as up as I thought she might be. I thought she'd be relieved, but she was a little depressed."

"It's the change," Elizabeth said. "In the long run, she'll see the good in it. I can even talk to her. Strange as it seems, I think I can cheer her up."

"That does sound strange," Paul said. "But I trust your judgment. You have no reason to be other than honest. I think you like Quinn, even, in a way. She's on the day shift now. She'll be off at four." 

Elizabeth had Quinn's number, and called her at about 4:05, and asked her to talk to her in the park. Quinn said she saw no reason for it. Elizabeth said she was not looking for an argument, and wanted to try to straighten things out between the two of them, and Quinn might feel better.

Quinn thought this was ridiculously impossible, but then agreed, thinking it might feel better to give Elizabeth a piece of her mind. Why not, when Elizabeth asked for it?

"I wouldn't have done this to you, if I felt the least doubt. It is so strange. It feels so right. And so it follows it wasn't right for you two. Which makes it a good thing for you to have your freedom."

"Pardon me if I disagree. You of all people telling me that it's good. Naturally you want to feel like it is."

"Naturally, but I don't think I'm being dishonest. It might be a little frightening for you - in denial of what you really want, but – well, now you can go for it." 

"You've already been with a shrink too long!" Quinn dismissed the notion of what she really wanted as not worth inquiring into further.

"I thought so before I knew he existed. You may not want to hear this now. But you and Paul can, I think, be friends. I think so highly of you."

"Thank you. I have nothing against him being happy. You either. He could have given it a little more time, and it would probably have worked out. But I don't have to regret any of that now. You've spared me."

Quinn went to the Outback with Alexis, who invited her out to lunch one day. Jerry Jax looked sympathetic how he knew, Quinn could only speculate and made such a ridiculous fuss over them that Quinn laughed, and assured Alexis that the Outback was safe from making her feel sad from now on.

Quinn and Joanna were in Luke's Bar. Joanna said she'd been there a few times, and it was mellow; an easy going place, quiet enough to talk in most of the time. There was a band there playing blues in a sort of low key way.

"There's no point in dating anyway," Quinn was saying, swirling her wine in her glass. "May as well just go around, make eye contact with guys, until you and your Destined One see each other."

"Maybe that would work as well," Joanna took a swig of beer, "or better. Didn't they use to parade all the unmarried people in the town square in the olden days? In Spain or some country like that?"

Quinn laughed. "Yeah. Once a week we just parade around. The woman on the inside of course. The men going in the opposite direction. On the outside. Circling around the park. This way Paul sees Elizabeth before he wastes time with me."

"I wonder if I even would have married Charlie in that game," Joanna said. "My Destined True Love that I would recognize the first time off could be married to somebody else right now."

"Yes, some woman is married to my husband, too," Quinn laughed.

"Don't say that! He might be about to walk in the door here."

"You are ever the optimist," Quinn said.

"Can I join you lovely ladies?" a voice said.

Quinn looked up, prepared to be annoyed. She wasn't, because it was only Lucky Spencer. "Sure, sit down," she said. "We're in the same boat, aren't we?"

"How do you mean?" he asked, sitting down, putting his beer on the table.

"Paul and Elizabeth," she said, looking at him as if he was dense.

"Who and Elizabeth?" he asked.

"You've really lost touch since you broke up, haven't you?"

"Yes. She's been really odd, whenever I've seen her. At work, she's always busy, and she'd stayed away from Kelly's – that's where we both live, over Kelly's – for the longest time she's ever stayed. I tried to get her to talk a little while back, when Zander's mother started taking over Deception, but she acted really distant."

"So you don't know she already has someone else," Joanna said.

"Someone else? No, that's only Jason Quartermaine, who always tries to step in whenever Elizabeth and I argue or she needs space, or whatever."

"I shouldn't tell you this, then, you should ask her," Quinn said.

"Go ahead and tell me, because my chances of talking to her are nil. She goes out of her way not to talk to me."

"It's not Dr. Quartermaine," Joanna told him, "It's Quinn's boyfriend, or, ex-boyfriend, Paul."

"I don't even understand. Who's he?"

"A doctor on staff at the hospital – a psychiatrist," Quinn explained.

"She didn't see a psychiatrist when she was in there, did she?"

"No. I introduced them, when she was doing that drawing of me at the speedway. Isn't that rich, Joanna? _I_ introduced them. And now I think of it, there was something funny about it. They started to talk to each other, like they knew each other already. It was weird. I didn't think much of it, then."

Lucky was speechless.

"I'm really sorry," Quinn said.

He took a drink. He looked at her. "Well, don't be," he said. "Obviously, I wasn't going to learn about this any sooner. And I would rather know than not. It must be one of her 'I need space' things – but it's usually Jason and his motorcycle. He makes her feel free," he went on, mockingly, "riding on the back of his motorcycle."

"She wanted to do her drawing of Paul with a motorcycle," Quinn said. "I thought nothing of his going to pose for her for that. Paul never has owned or driven a motorcycle that I know of. She borrowed a motorcycle, he said."

"It would be a trick if she got Jason's for that," Lucky said. "I think I might actually sympathize with Jason. Well, no. On second thought, I'll never go that far."

They were silent awhile.

"But you," he said, realizing what had happened with Quinn. "How long were you dating this psychiatrist? It wasn't that serious, I hope?"

"It supposedly was, since we were thinking of getting married."

"Then I'm sorry," he said. "You sure don't deserve that."

"Well, it really wasn't all that hot, in spite of that," Quinn said.

"Yeah, she turned down his proposal. Don't let her get you to feel sorry for her over that," Joanna said, looking at Quinn, "she waited too long."

"My family and friends down to the last one are relieved," Quinn told Lucky. "They think I had no future with him. I was keeping an open mind. Now I don't have to. I'm getting used to it."

"I wonder if I should even bother to talk to Elizabeth about it," Lucky said. "I think I won't. I'd love to see how long she expects to go on without knowing. Maybe it isn't even a big deal."

"He thought it was," Quinn said. "Maybe not. Maybe it was enough for him to realize he didn't really want to get married."

"True," Joanna said. "It wouldn't take much for him to think that - if he could even be interested in someone else, while at the same time you aren't sure, well, he could have finally seen the light."

"Maybe the whole thing is a mirage to see if you'll fight back," Lucky suggested.

"No, that's isn't like him," Quinn said. "If it were, he's not getting any fight. I'm not up for that. It's so sudden. That's what bothers me. How can you believe in anybody, if they can suddenly change like that?"

"Was it really sudden?" Joanna asked. "Didn't you disagree about Thanksgiving?"

"He was understanding, as usual," Quinn said. "Or he didn't fight about it. Well, he wasn't so positively understanding. I remember him being rather, I don't know. He is not that easy to read, when you get right down to it. But come to think of it, he was rather – sarcastic – about it. Sarcastic for him, anyway. Saying that I was too involved in the patient's soap opera, or something like that."

"What patient? Did you go to see a patient for Thanksgiving?" Lucky laughed. "Boy, you're dedicated."

"By that time, it really wasn't so much seeing a patient."

"It arose out of the patient and his problems," Joanna commented. "Didn't Paul always think you were too involved with the patient?"

"I wasn't! The patient was difficult. I thought we persevere against challenges. It was like pulling teeth to get a medical history, but so, we still tried to get it. Then when we got it; other things developed, but by Thanksgiving, it was more like seeing a friend – or going to my folks, anyway. They were invited there, so we as a family were there. I think I resented Paul acting like he should just plan Thanksgiving and deem that we should see my family the day after only, without consulting me. Zander and his family had little to do with that."

"Oh, Zander, here we go again," said Lucky. "Why am I not be surprised he is at the bottom of this?"

"It's not his fault," Quinn said.

"His victims never think so," Lucky said. "So you lost your boyfriend over Zander. Another one for Zander to add to his list."

"That's silly!" Quinn declared. "I did not lose my boyfriend over Zander! It was just that his mother invited my family to Thanksgiving at their house. They had invited his father, to see Peter, and invited my whole family."

"What's the big deal about inviting the father?" Lucky asked.

"Peter hadn't seen him," Quinn explained. "They're divorced, and the father had been in prison."

"Zander's father in prison," Lucky said. "Why am I not surprised? Drug dealing?"

"No - interference with custody – that's why it was a big deal to invite him over," Quinn said. "He had taken Zander and Peter, when they were kids, to live with him when he didn't have custody. He took them out of the country. So he went to prison for that. When he got out, there were orders against him seeing Peter – Zander too, but he waived them and talked to his father. But they set it up so the father could come over on Thanksgiving and see Peter."

"What a lovely thing to invite your family to," Lucky said.

"It was nice," Quinn said. "We helped with being able to break the ice and keep it from being really awkward, and we had a really nice time."

"It figures that family is trouble," Lucky said. "Why are they suddenly around? They didn't care about Zander before, now there're around, throwing Thanksgiving Dinners and taking over companies."

"It is way more complicated than that," Quinn said.

"When Dr. Monica Quartermaine wanted his medical history," Joanna explained, "Zander wouldn't say anything. His lawyer Alexis, and Quinn, and the cops, put all the pieces together and found the parents, then the parents found Zander, we got the medical history, and Zander's pretty much in the clear, and even reconciling with the parents. Happy ending."

"Not with Zander," Lucky said. "No, see the happy ending is all his. Meanwhile, you lost time with Paul, had to do all this stuff you wouldn't have otherwise done to help Zander. I've seen it happen to my oldest friend, Emily Quartermaine. Before you know it you are eye-deep in Zander-related problems, and everything else falls apart. I saw Emily lose her boyfriend, have no time for friends, no time for fun, and barely time for her family, in exchange for visiting a jail and visiting a court trial. She had to move out of her parents' house and live at Kelly's. You're an adult now, but you're still getting the effect, Quinn. I hope he is worth it. Emily thought he was, and learned her lesson a little too late."

Quinn tried not to laugh. "I'm not laying this at Zander's door! It's not that simple."

"OK, maybe not, but can you honestly say that, with no Zander, you would have cared that much? You'd have said, OK, go to my folks tomorrow for Thanksgiving."

"I'd still have met Elizabeth. Unless you claim Zander somehow put her in the hospital! She'd still have done the drawing of me, and I'd still have introduced her to Paul!"

"Paul wouldn't have been so vulnerable, if you had been with him all that time you were working on digging up Zander's family for him," Joanna offered, jokingly.

Quinn laughed now, since Joanna was the one who had said it. "It could have been some other patient!"

"No," Lucky said. "Some other patient would have called his parents and had his medical history sent to the hospital."

"That is true," Quinn admitted. "Still, come on."

"The relationship was doubtful," Joanna said. "We all thought so. It was weak, because you didn't want to marry him, and he's so wonderful. You must have know he was not the one. Something would have happened to make that come apart. In fact, I vote for his going for Elizabeth even without Zander."

"Zander gets off the hook again," Lucky said. Even he was starting to laugh a little. "He always does."

The next thing Zander did was invite her over to Alexis' for a Russian dinner. "Now look how he's victimizing me," Quinn joked to Joanna. "Russian food!"

"Awful of him," Joanna quipped.

Zander and Alexis were cooking this dinner, and when Quinn came over they explained what everything was. Zander told her where you had to get the various ingredients in Moscow.

"Did you fly over there yesterday?" Quinn grinned.

He laughed at himself – he'd been telling her where to go as if she were in Moscow and could go out and get everything. He told her how he had to hunt up a couple of things in Port Charles.

"Then there's whole milk," Zander said. "I don't want to use skim, because they never have it there. Russians could care less about that stuff," he added. "Alexis can hardly deal with having this whole milk in her apartment."

"I'll live!" Alexis laughed. "I can't believe they don't have any skim, that's what!" She explained to Quinn. "Not in all of Moscow!"

"Maybe at one of the Western-style markets," he said. "You'd have to make a special trip there, though, and spend more roubles."

"I got roubles for skim milk," Alexis said.

Quinn laughed. She was cheered up a little more. She thanked Zander, "though it's the least you could do," she said.

"How's that?" he grinned.

"Well, I realized it is all your fault about Paul and Elizabeth!"

"What?" he said, eyes sparkling, since he could tell by her smile it was a joke.

"I did not have enough time for Paul, because I was looking for your medical history," Quinn explained. "This is exactly what happened to Emily, so Lucky explained it to me the other day. For her it was legal; for me, it's medical. I was spending time on figuring you out and who your parents were. This led directly to my dismissal by Paul. If you think about it, it really is very logical."

"I see," he answered. "I hid my history for the sole purpose of luring you in."

"Exactly."

"Being as I am the all powerful swami, you of course succumbed. Therefore, you did not have time for Paul and therefore Paul had nothing to do. Paul notices Elizabeth. It works out perfectly. Well, here I am. Let me have it."

"I can't!" Quinn laughed helplessly. Her spirits really did lift, right then, quite a bit.

"Here," Alexis said. "Have a piece of caviar. It's the least that blackguard can do for you."

Alexis went up to bed, telling Quinn to stay as long as she wanted. She came down with some pillows and blankets for the couch, in case she wanted to stay. "This is where he will sleep," she said, indicating Zander. "Then he will give you his room. This is the way he always does things. Pay it no mind, and just sleep upstairs. Don't even think of going if it gets late."

"Thanks, Alexis," Quinn said.

Zander came from upstairs, where he had gone to get "The Letter." Quinn had remembered to bring him the ones he had written in the hospital, not to send, but for therapy; which he had later given her.

She took his letter from Emily when he handed it to her. Quinn was sad that he kept it from the hospital.

"No," he said. "I kept it for Danny and Kathleen to cut up with it, like they did Joe's letter, remember?"

"It's good material for cutting up," Quinn said. She re-read it.

Dear Zander,

I am writing this from school, and mailing it to Alexis, so she can deliver it to you. Please do not try to get her to tell you where I am.

I cannot believe you would lock my brother in a warehouse and be part of a plot to kill him.

Michael, my nephew, is in enough danger with AJ trying to get him away from Sonny and Carly. Instead of leaving well enough alone, AJ was at that warehouse you work at with you locking him up.

Please, **please**, **please**, leave my family members alone.

As for me, I never want to see or hear from you again. 

Emily Quartermaine

"She underlines her last name, as it to emphasize that she is a member of that family," Quinn said. "Why does she use that word? It isn't necessary, is it? Leave my family alone. Why does she use that word members? Is it a family, or a club? You need a membership application?"

Zander laughed. "Great minds think alike! That was my thought exactly! She told me when she broke up with me over her grandfather to leave her family _members_ alone, too. I remember the phrase, because both times I found it to be so annoying. Whatever I may have done," he held up his hand, as if taking an oath, "I have never harmed any of her family _members_!"

"It probably is a club," Quinn said. "But why isn't she equally as angry at these Sonny and Carly people? Isn't Carly the one who shot you? OK, she knows nothing of that, but really, she may end up apologizing to you. It can't be OK for Carly to try to shoot AJ, if it's not OK for you to lock him up! Especially when your locking him up saved him from this Carly person!"

"Carly is a member who was kicked out," Zander explained. "She married AJ. That made her an associate member."

Quinn started giggling.

"It made her an associate member," Zander repeated, laughing, "and when she left AJ, of course, she lost her associate membership."

"I know!" Quinn said, "You had a provisional membership, which one gets for being a boyfriend or girlfriend to a member! Working for Carly's new husband, you had a conflict of interest. You had to be kicked out for that! So it followed that the romance had to be closed!"

"True love," he mused. "Yes, I thought I loved her, and I had never loved anybody before! I didn't know it was only a club membership! Now how do you know if you really love somebody, then?"

"Was it love at first sight?"

"No, not at all."

"That's how you know. Danny and Kathleen must be right. I talked to both Paul and Elizabeth, separately. The way they both describe it is so strange. Both can only say that they feel it is right. There is no doubt about it. He said he knew when he saw her. "

"Maybe for some people, that's true, but a lot of other people might end up being sorry. Paul and Elizabeth might end up sorry, for all we know."

There was a knock on the door. Elizabeth opened it. It was Paul. She could say nothing; only start kissing him and kissing him. They sat on her bed, which served as the couch, hand in hand. He pulled her really close. Then, both feeling like there was no effort that could fight it no matter how superhuman, they gave in and started undressing each other.

Elizabeth was totally amazed. Time seemed to slow, and the daylight faded away, until it was dark. Finally, settling down, and cuddling up to him under one of the sheets, she said: "That was just like in the movies. I didn't think it really happened that way. You are really good."

"No, I'm not. I never was before, anyway."

"That is really a sweet thing to say," she smiled, and looked up at him. She started kissing him again. 

"She sounds so immature," Quinn was going on, and asked, "Were you really lovers?"

"Only once."

"What?"

"For real."

"The last day before she went to college?"

"No, the night I wrecked her prom."

"So you wrecked more than her prom. But how did you get from there to August when she left for school then? Isn't that the only thing on your mind at that point, when you think you're in love?"

"Normally."

"But you didn't try to get her into bed again? "

"No."

"How is that even possible? I could kick you! I felt like you had this intense love affair and had a real broken heart over her letter. You barely would be friends with another girl."

"I thought it was. Which is what is scary, you know? How do you know? It is easy to see now, but in the middle of it, how can you? It was the court and the trial and that I had to testify, at least, there was all that drama at the time."

"You never even thought of it in all that time?"

"I remember this one day in my room at Jake's. I was packing to go. Something happened, I don't even remember anymore what it was. Before I testified something made it seem too dangerous, for her. Her family always thought she was in danger by being with me, because I was in danger for testifying. One time, I thought they were right, so I said I was going to get out of town, so she'd be safe and all that. They were always worried about her being safe. Alexis talked me out of it later, but anyway, Emily comes to my room to argue she should go too - go out of town with me."

"So you're alone in this room. So far, so good."

"There she was, standing between me and the bed. We had already had this one night - itself it was another big drama, if you're ever so bored you want to hear about it, let me know."

"Oh, thanks. For now this story is exciting enough, though. She's there by the bed. So you make an attempt to take advantage of that, right?"

"I thought about it. But I could tell she was a zillion miles away from all that. See, with her, it's the drama. Sex may be part of the staging, but it's nothing itself. Anyway, she went on about how we loved each other and should always be together and how her older sister, Skye, would help us out financially and arrange for us to travel. I knew with her with me it wouldn't be safer for her anyway! And I knew with Skye in on it there was going to be some kind of price."

"I still don't buy it. Even with all that going on. In fact, it would be more likely. She's so in love with you! Has to run away with you! She's been with you. From then on there should have been only one thing on her mind! Do I have to repeat that?"

"No," he laughed. "But you see, do you think – well, her prom night - I must have done a terrible job! I didn't distract her myself. Only with my problems."

"She must have done a terrible job. But I won't ask any more about this. This relationship does not flatter the male ego in the least."

"No."

"How did you wreck a prom, anyway?"

"We got there. The guys came up to me and tried to score some controlled substances. The girls came up to her and asked her what it was like to date a criminal."

"So a few people did that."

"Well, she wanted to leave."

"She wanted to leave over that?"

"Hard to describe, but she made it seem like it was ok. Really came across as putting a value on me, like she did this for me. She was happy that night. Somehow the gossip mill was working so a few days later, her family realized she had never really been there, and they were furious."

"And of course, you continue to harm her."

"How?"

"Elizabeth is Little's Emily's best friend. Lucky is Little Emily's oldest friend. This with Paul makes a breach between her oldest friend and her best friend. Now, she has to pick between them."

"You know, I think I can follow that line of reasoning! I would bet she has to lose her best friend because of this."

"And as you recall, it is your fault."

"Therefore, she is losing her best friend because of me! I'm going to avoid Lucky if possible, so I don't catch hell."

"Of course it would have nothing to do with Little Emily writing Elizabeth only one letter all semester. But does she really blame other people like that?"

"No. She's like Teflon. Her friends and family do it for her."

"Lucky is the one she'll stick by. He's her champion. I know that from my own experience."

"Yes. Her oldest friend isn't a category that can be replaced."

"Good thought! A new best friend is possible. A new boyfriend is. But you can't top your oldest friend, no way!"

Quinn took his letters out. "Here," she handed them to him.

"You never read them?" he asked.

"No."

"What happened to your famous curiosity?" He grinned and turned to read them. He was sitting on the floor, and she was sitting on the couch. When he read a page, he tossed it to her and went to the next.

She had to get up for the flying paper. She read;

_You are so frivolous, Emily, you jump to believe your family members, as you always call them, is it some sort of club that only jerks are allowed to join? - when they lie, even though by now you should know they are, when they have done it before._

I am sick of being accused of this or that to your family members. You already have another guy, so why don't you just tell me instead of making up this new lie about my terrorizing your loud mouthed brother - and you really think I am stupid enough to believe it? I had no idea AJ was in there and I did what Sonny had told me to do.

But that doesn't matter, as you are trumping up this stupid incident yourself, because you have another guy. I don't stand a chance at a distance, as you are so easy to distract. You can transfer your so called "love" to anybody dumb or lonely enough to need your attention that you so shallowly grant, with big, empty words to go alone with it. It is so easy for you to break up over the slightest thing, that your declarations of love have become equally frivolous in value. See how long this new love of your life lasts after a few rounds with your family members.

Your professions of fear are exaggerated and pointless. I have no desire to even talk to your pathetic family members. Tell the jerks to leave my family and friends alone.

Your address and directions to it could drop from the sky into my lap, and you would have no need to worry. I have no intention of contacting you. In fact, I don't want to hear from you again either, even if you change your pitiful, shallow, little mind again. Don't call me and don't send me another crummy letter - if I get another one, I'll throw it out unread.

Quinn couldn't help giggling at the way he had underlined every use of the word "members." She read the others:

_Sergei:_

You have to have control over everything, don't you? You can't leave it to me, when all you had to do was send me my crummy Russian passport, the one you so kindly got me to take me into an unstable third world nation that you previously fled because it was so horrible.

The custody orders you were violating are still in effect? What a surprise! Did you discuss that with any of your high priced fancy lawyers? You can discuss business deals with them, but when it came to your sons - oh, gee, I forgot! Did you know you did something illegal or does it just not matter to you whether what you do is illegal or not? So you found out the hard way.

I guess it wasn't good enough it was only me that would come back, you had to have Pete too, though both of us are not legally in your custody to start with! You had a chance to have one son in your illegal custody another year, but that not being good enough, you had to come back and try for both. Do you think the court decrees are just pictures the judge draws in his spare time to amuse you with?

Oksana:

Congratulations, every t is crossed and every I is dotted and every form is perfectly filled out and everyone is in their proper place. If the world could only live up to your standards, the world would be a Perfect Place. Failure to live up to your standards results in the desire to remove oneself from anywhere they can be exercised. This means you will lose everybody who doesn't live up to your standards. So you're happy, right?

He had run out of energy at this point.

"These are concise, " Quinn commented. "They go right to the point. Very good. I think they should be published," she teased.

"No," he said. "But I just may save Little Emily's and try to send it to her some time."

"Keep a copy," Quinn advised. 

Lucky was at a loss - there was no way to even start trying to convince his mother she'd made a mistake.

He was at the house for breakfast one Sunday. While he was playing video games with his little sister, he heard his mother going on to his father.

It sounded as if her new partner wasn't there much more than Carly, but what she did for the company for about 100 times as effective. No, he heard Laura amending herself happily, a million times as effective. "When she's not there, even, she's doing things," Laura marveled. "Things come in. Other things get done. The needed person calls."

But top among Oksana's Svengali-like hold over his mother, in Lucky's opinion, was the sneaky trick of stating the opinion, unasked, that Laura move into what had been Carly's office. And redecorate it to boot.

It appeared Oksana was way bigger than Deception and thought of Laura as the one who was running it day to day, and was one of those employee-motivators who thinks people will do a good job if you treat them really nice. Or something like that. So Oksana took Laura's office as hers, and gave Carly's to Laura without a struggle, in fact, insisted on it!

This was amazing to Lucky, who had heard his mother's similar at-home comments during the time of the Great Battle for the Biggest Office at Deception, when no-show Carly had insisted on having the Big One for herself.

Lucky shook his head. He remembered Laura fuming over Carly being so insistent on that and wasting time with these sorts of power games. She had agreed to Carly taking that office to shut that off. In the months after that, Laura grew more and infuriated that Carly spent little time there, and when she was there, was on the phone or involved in other personal business.

In the days after Laura got this office for her own, Carly's gloomy set up was transformed into a place far more cheerful, yet sharp and professional.

The expansion was going to be a snap, as Oksana already was involved in a company dealing in lotions and facial treatments. This company ended up merged with Deception and was moved up from Florida, where it had originally been, and Deception actually took up almost half of the Equitable Building by the time it was moved in. Many of the employees of Deception were excited by the new floors, and they were allowed to roam at will on them and talk to the new employees. It was becoming a definite medium sized company rather than a small one.

Laura had always been sensitive about charges of nepotism and had never allowed for Lucky to do much that she felt someone in his job couldn't already do. Now she was less worried, because they were able to get three new photographers. Now he was one of 5 rather than one of 2, and Laura was more comfortable. She bubbled over about how many new models they could have. In that department, the nepotism over her son Nikolas' fiancée was similarly about to be diluted.

The best part of all, to Laura, was how legitimate they now were. "Only think, Luke," she said, "everything is totally legal and we don't have to worry about Oksana backing out or sending thugs. Somebody more against organized crime I never saw! Alexis thinks that she could have run across some Russians and had to head them off, you know how awful Russian organized crime can be. So Oksana has an eye for it and dislikes it thoroughly. I did not understand before how much better it would be to be legit! We pay all of our taxes this way, and we don't have to worry about the IRS, or the FCC or the FTC, or the INS or the SEC."

"Go for it, baby," Luke said. "Would you like some alphabet soup?"

"Sonny would go on about how legit this particular company was, but he said that about other companies he had. Like that coffee company, where Carly did the shooting. And we have international markets open up some, with connections to the legal establishments and requirements and treaties and all that stuff already there so that we don't have to break into it like beginners or in some semi-legal or illegal way," Laura added.

"If I had a picture of Alexis, I would salute it every day," Luke said.

Laura laughed and agreed.

So Lucky didn't see how even starting the subject of how this Oksana was Zander's mother and how that should put a stop to all these plans was going to be of any use. His mother didn't know any more about Zander than had been in the newspapers, and wasn't the type to judge him that harshly anyway - she had a soft spot for out-of-control youth that belied the fact she had more successfully raised her own sons. His father Lucky considered as hopeless. He would probably even empathize with the likes of Zander. 

Zander called Quinn and told her that he was at the soccer game at Mercy High School. Pete was playing, of course. Her brother Tim was there, hanging out with some other friends of theirs. Didn't she want to come down before she missed more of this?

Quinn laughed and said she would try to get there before the end of the game.

It wasn't too crowded, and it was easy to make her way down to Zander, he was a row or two behind Tim. Tim came up to talk to her for a minute.

"Sander," Tim said. "Is everyone in Russia crazy? Why is that language so complicated?"

Quinn pulled at Tim's backwards baseball cap, and twisted it around to face frontward. "It's not complicated to them, English is, dorkhead." Tim pulled his cap around backwards.

"I will never be able to remember all the case endings," he said. "I do not understand how any human being can, and that includes all Russians who ever lived."

"It is from using them all the time," Zander said. "Don't try to memorize the endings, make up sentences. Then you remember the sentences and the vocabulary in them and the endings. The endings are much easier to remember if they're part of a word in a sentence. They the words of the same gender, when you need to put them in that case, remember you sentence for that gender. And you get a reinforcement of a use of that case, too."

"That's more to memorize, but I guess it makes sense."

"More, but much easier than a set of boring endings. If you do it, I'll make a tape of me saying them. You can play that when you're doing some chore, and you'll get them reinforced and the pronunciation, too."

"A good deal, Tim," Quinn said.

"I'll try it," Tim vowed. "Don't tell Pete. Then I can shock him out of his wits by knowing all the endings."

"I will never tell Pete," Zander said, grinning. "Never."

Quinn laughed.

Somebody called Tim, so he hit them each in the arm with the greatest affection and went down a few rows.

The cheerleaders jumped up, and started another cheer. Pete got the ball and dribbled it downfield. Quinn jumped up and yelled for him.

It was cold. She shivered.

"Take my jacket," Zander said, taking it off, "you're freezing."

"No!" she said. "I've got a jacket"

"It's too thin," he said. "You're shivering."

"You'll be really cold without yours," she said. "Did you consider that?"

"Ever the nurse," he said. "Still taking care of me, I see."

"Someone has to! How do you even think of sitting here without a jacket, to give it to me who already has one?

He submitted to her, putting his jacket back on. She sat down next to him, arms folded, moving around to warm up. 

"Here," he said, putting his arms around her. 

"Well," she said slowly, "that does do _some_ good." He complained about her elbow poking him, eventually accusing her of having more than two elbows. She sighed, and rolled her eyes, pretending he was troublesome. After a moment, she put his arm around his waist, so he could be spared these multiple elbows.


	83. Chapter 83

**Part 83**

Oksana had decorated the gate house, and wanted Zander to put a Christmas tree up there. He thought this was absurd.

He called Quinn up and told her, and asked her if she wanted to see the house now.

He sat on one of the benches in the large entryway, reading.

He got up when he heard a car pull through the gate. Seeing it was hers, he went out to greet her.

"She's really working on you," Quinn said, seeing the kitchen.

"Yeah," Zander agreed. "Open the drawers and the cabinets."

The house had dishes and silverware and glasses now. Even wineglasses. Now there was a microwave and a toaster.

The dining room had a white wood table and chairs, and a china cabinet with china, which was not flowery. Nothing was. "And she obviously knows it is a guy who will live here," Quinn said.

"Wherever did she get that idea?" Zander asked.

The living room was fixed up in a really sharp way; dark blue and tan and nothing that could be accused of frilly femininity. The bedrooms were similarly set up, with a black quilt on the bed, and dark patterned sheets. There was a little TV in the bedroom and a big one in the living room. It was the upper bedroom that was set to be the bedroom. The lower was a study with a desk and a computer and bookshelves.

"Oh, this person is a student," Quinn said, giggling.

The hallway had a couch and a couple of chairs, and the stereo was there. Zander had put one of the CDs in. The music was from the seventies and eighties.

"There's still a lot a room," Quinn said. "You can dance up here, there's room, so that's why the stereo is here. Also, you can hear music through both sides of the house. Good idea. Great place for a party."

She looked out the window. "What were you reading?" she asked.

"_Ulysses_," he said. "Amanda, the tutor, told me to read the first chapter then write down whatever I thought about it."

"I may have an Irish background, but I never could stand that book! Nothing happens!"

"I don't think anything is supposed to happen."

"A novel should have something happen!"

"It doesn't seem like a novel."

"What in the world is it, then?"

"I don't know. A poem? A statement? Somebody's diary."

"It is good that you are OK with things that make no sense!"

"It is rhythmic language. Poetic. It describes the people pretty well. I can see the guy on the roof with his shaving cream – like a photo or a movie."

"No plot, just shaving. But you can see it. Interesting."

"And berating his friend for not praying when he didn't believe in it. When his mother was dying, he wouldn't pray for her, even then, because he didn't believe in it. So should you pretend you do, at that point, to humor your mother, or stick to your beliefs no matter what is going on?"

"Rhythmic," she murmured.

"Yeah. Music. I would like to hear someone with an Irish accent read that."

"My grandfather might be able to imitate it. Or it must be on tape with an Irish reader. I'll look around the bookstore."

The stereo played "_Tiny Dancer_."

"Come here," he said. He held his arms out. "Won't you dance?"

She walked over, slowly, and looked up at him.

"I felt bad for you, about Paul and Elizabeth, but not enough to wish it hadn't happened."

"Join the club."

"All your family _members_ are in it."

"Every one is a member of that club."

"I'm a member, too."

They danced a little longer.

"You know," she said, moving closer, "I think I'll join that club, too."

He went downstairs to get _Ulysses_. When he came back with it, he took her hand and led her over to sit on the couch with him. He opened the book, and put his arm around her. She leaned her head on his shoulder. She asked him how far he was.

He flipped some of the pages with his free hand.

"Never mind," he said. "Read from anywhere. Nothing happens, so it doesn't have to go in order, right?"

"This is pretty earthy," Quinn said, after reading a page.

"Really sexy. You should have stuck with it. "

"I never would have gotten this far, though. Only you would think of starting in the middle!"

"Want to help me pick the Christmas tree for this place?"

"You mean New Year's Tree."

"You remember!"

"Yes. You have your own house and your own tree."

"Do you get one for your place?"

"No, I never bothered. I went home on Christmas Eve."

"You can still have one."

"A little one. OK. Let's go and look for both."

He bent his head down and kissed her. She looked at him a second, then leaned back towards him to kiss him again, and _Ulysses_ dropped onto the floor.

Paul and Elizabeth were wandering through the Christmas tree farm, very slowly, looking at the stars and at the trees. He asked her if she'd pick the tree. She said she'd tell him when she saw it. He laughed, contented. They wandered hand in hand, not going in any particular direction, just turning wherever fancy struck them.

Quinn and Zander were doing exactly the same thing.

They turned a corner and ran right into the other two.

Elizabeth was the first to speak. "Well," she said, seeing Zander and Quinn, holding hands, "It seems that all resentment is moot. Let's just go on. All friends."

They looked at each other, both men, both women, the former couple, and Zander and Elizabeth.

Zander drew his arm around Quinn's shoulders. "OK," he said.

Quinn laughed, and drew hers around his waist, and leaned her head against his chest. "Well, then, OK for me too!"

They walked a few paces, Quinn and Zander ahead, having been the ones to reverse direction.

"My painting _Girl Racer_ is nearly done," Elizabeth said, cordially. "Let me show it to both of you sometime."

"I would love to see it," Zander declared.

"Emily! Welcome Home!" Lucky hugged her, there in the Quartermaine's living room. "I haven't heard your voice in so long, I hardly recognized you on the phone. How are you?"

"OK," she answered, a little slowly.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said.

"You're blonder," he commented. "Nice."

"Thanks. You look the same."

"Well, you look better."

"Are you still living at Kelly's?"

"Yes."

Emily wanted to see Kelly's. "And Elizabeth. Where's Elizabeth?"

"I'll tell you on the walk over," he said.

"I think Elizabeth and I are broken up," he said, cautiously, as they walked. "At least temporarily."

"Oh, no! Is it Jason?"

"Not this time. This time it is another doctor. I don't know him, and she's never told me that she was going out with him, I only know about this from that guy's former girlfriend. Elizabeth and I had an argument, nothing big, and I hadn't spoken to her, or she to me, for a little while, but instead of working itself out it got to be a bigger problem because she met this guy."

"Which doctor is it?"

"Paul, Whitley, Whitman, a psychiatrist."

"I met him. When Mom and I were at the hospital to get together with Gail for lunch."

"So, what did you think?"

"I thought he was friendly, nice, really good looking. But I had no idea!"

"Well, he's it, apparently, Elizabeth has this sudden thing for him."

"That's too bad. You'll get back together, though. It was always meant to be."

"Yes, that's kind of what I think, but I'm not sure what to make of it. She's not likely to be at Kelly's, though. She hasn't been there in forever."

When they got there, Lucky said, "Let me look inside first." He went up to the window and looked in. He saw Zander and Quinn at a table.

"It's a good thing I decided to do that. Zander's in there."

Emily could not resist peeking.

She looked back at Lucky, a look of almost-shock on her face. "I didn't expect him to have a girlfriend!"

"Why not? But that's not his girlfriend. That is the nurse who was dating Dr. Paul Witless - until he dropped her suddenly for Elizabeth."

"He even dropped that girl, to steal Elizabeth?" Emily looked back in. Lucky admonished her to be careful.

"She's a nurse? She's very good looking. I mean - not that Elizabeth isn't, too."

"Quinn – she's a nurse - lost Doctor Paul the same way you lost Juan. She had no time for her boyfriend. She was spending it all helping Zander. She was the nurse on his case. Just like you with him in jail, she helped him in the hospital."

"Why was he in the hospital?"

Lucky realized his mistake.

"What was he in the hospital for, Lucky?"

"Your parents – You're not supposed to know –"

"Not supposed to know what? Tell me!"

"OK, but let's get out of here."

They walked into the park.

"The long and short of it is, he got shot in front of Corinthos Warehouse. He was in the ICU after your parents did surgery on him. This nurse, Quinn, had to get his medical history from him. He wouldn't tell her or anybody anything. He wouldn't even tell them his parents names. Alexis and Quinn had to work really hard to get information people normally just give their doctors. To get it out of him, or behind his back, they even had to get help from the police. Finally, they flushed out his parents and got his medical history. Well, as usual, Zander turns out to be just fine. But Quinn and her family are tangled up in helping him reconcile with his parents."

"His parents?"

"Yeah. Well, his mother's mom's partner now. She and his brother live up with street from you."

"Live here? And a brother?"

"Yeah, just a 16 year old kid. Another one in the making!"

"Has he done anything wrong?"

"Oh, no. He's just a kid. He might even go to PC High. I don't know, but he goes to school. The mother bought into Deception."

"No father?"

"The father has been around. He had been in jail and got out, and there was some deal about his visitation with the brother. They got him over for Thanksgiving, to see the brother, and Quinn got involved in that, which led to an argument with this Paul Witless, her boyfriend. I even told her that she lost Paul the same way you lost Juan. I keep warning her, but she doesn't listen."

"Like I didn't."

"Almost exactly."

She was thinking for awhile. Lucky thought it might be a chance to change the subject.

"You had a boyfriend at school, from what Elizabeth said."

"Vinnie."

"Is Vinnie in town? I'd like to meet him."

"No. He wouldn't come. But we broke up last night."

"How, if he's not in town?"

"Over the phone."

"Why?"

"Grandfather did a background investigation on him and I found out why he wouldn't come meet us in San Diego for Thanksgiving, and why he won't come here for Christmas break, or why he never wanted me to go to West Liberty with him for the weekend."

"What was it?"

"He got a girl pregnant, back in high school. So he wants to see his son. I guess he was never going to tell me about him. "

"Gee, I hope you didn't get too over involved with him."

"On Halloween night, I did."

"Oh, no! What brought on the background check?"

"They were suspicious that he wouldn't come for Thanksgiving, and that he never took me to meet his parents on the weekends. Grandfather said some thing about another deviant, but I didn't believe it. I told him not to do that to Vinnie, not to do a background check. But as soon as I got here for Christmas vacation, Grandfather gave me this report."

"Better luck next time," Lucky said. "You deserve it. You've gotten the short end of the stick three times now."

At home, later, Emily demanded of Monica to explain what had happened to Zander. "Lucky said he was in the hospital and his medical history was hard to get, but that now he is OK. I wish I had known about it."

"Of course, he was fine. Your father and I did the surgery ourselves. You were in your first week. The last thing you needed was more troubles with Zander."

"Who shot him?"

"Carly. She thought he was AJ"

"Do you think Zander was part of the plot to murder AJ?"

"Not now. He's not under arrest for it. The police seem to treat him as a victim. If he had been part of it, how would he have ended up taking the shots?"

"How do they know it was Carly?"

"She called AJ and told him to pick up Michael at the warehouse instead of day care."

"Sonny is not behind it, is he?"

"No, he took advantage of AJ showing up there by having Zander lock him in a storage room for awhile. Sonny lectured and berated AJ. He was only trying to intimidate him. His lovely wife hadn't planned for this diversion. She was lurking outside. At the time she expected AJ to come back out, he was locked in that room. Zander was leaving work. It was getting dark. Carly saw a hark haired man of medium to short height coming out, so she fired. Later, the police were able to match shell casings from the crime scene to a gun that had been in her possession, registered in a false name to one of her husband's goons. They got witnesses to her movement that afternoon and evening."

"So what happened to Zander?"

"Two shots to the abdomen. Fortunately, Carly is not a good shot. While we did the surgery, he had so many PVCs - premature ventricular contractions, which are irregular heartbeats - they can be harmless, but can indicate an arrythmia in the lower chambers of the heart. It can mean there is a rather serious and potentially deadly heart condition, Long Q-T Syndrome, which affects people his age and is hard to detect, but is marked by certain symptoms in childhood and also has a genetic component. So to try to rule it out, I needed his childhood medical records his family's medical history for certain things."

"Lucky told me that Alexis and the nurse worked really hard on that. Does he have this condition?"

"So far as we can tell, no family history of it, but some of the family's history can't be obtained. We are doing several EKGs on Zander, his father and brother. It looks good for them, overall."

"Why didn't you tell me all this?"

"You were busy! When we talked on the phone, you never asked about Zander and you were talking about good things, fun things, Vinnie, parties, classes, grades, football games and the Halloween costume party."

"But of course I assumed Zander was OK."

"Exactly why I wanted you to be able to enjoy college without being dragged into his negativity. He ran away. This threat of Long Q-T Syndrome was the only reason there were able to find him! The looked to me like perfectly decent folks, well off, responsible. So you can bet there's ton of trouble in his past to explain his running away." 

"Lucky says they live here now."

"I don't know about that. "

"Zander's mother is Mrs. Spencer's partner at Deception."

"Really. I never heard about that."

"Zander is still here."

"You haven't seen him, have you? You expressly promised."

"I haven't talked to him. Lucky told me this, that's all."

"I'm saving your present for New Year's," Quinn said. "But here's a little Christmas present." They had the tree up in the gatehouse hallway.

It was a Christmas tree ornament, in the shape of a shamrock.

"An Irish good luck charm! Thank you! You knew that's what I needed!"

He put it on an upper branch.

"That's one!" Quinn laughed. "You're lucky you've got through the New Year to decorate it! The Russians are smart, you know that?"

"Would you help me find presents for your family?" Zander asked her. "You know what they'll like best. Mine and Rosa's is easy. Winter clothes."

"I already thought that too! And I'm sure that's what my mother thought. They will be overwhelmed with mittens and scarves! I think I'll look for something else."

"No, don't have to. They'll need them."

"Especially Rosa and her nieces," Quinn said. "The others may not be used to it for a long time, but at least they have Russian blood. That must be genetically engineered to keep you warm."

"I don't know what happened to your blood then, being from here," Zander laughed. "You're always shivering." He put an arm around her shoulders and rubbed her upper arm to warm her up. They looked at the tree for a little while, both very happy with it and its single ornament.


	84. Chapter 84

**Part 84**

Alexis answered her door. It was Oksana.

"Hi!" Alexis said. "Come in! Is anything happening with Deception?"

"No, it's not business; I want to invite you on New Year's - the Russian way - I talk Sander into fixing it up so it'll be as they do it there now. As much as possible, anyway."

"Oh, I'd love that. Lately he has been into teaching me about my Russian heritage. We had a dinner here a few nights ago, with Quinn, too."

"You know how to speak any Russian?"

"Somewhat. From high school and college. My brothers and I."

"You want to practice; just tell one of us."

"Thank you._ Spah-see-bah_. I would like to brush up on that. It is thoughtful of you."

"Anything you think of, I can do. I couldn't thank you enough. You really do a lot of my job, to take care of him, as I see."

"Not at all," Alexis said. "I like Zander, and I always have, even when I first met him. He came that way, so it is your doing. No matter what he says. What do kids know, anyway?"

"Not much," Oksana laughed, "still, you help him out a lot."

The door rang again. It was Zander and Quinn, who had been out looking for Christmas presents, and had some for Alexis. Zander looked surprised to see Oksana there, and even a little suspicious.

"What are you doing here, Mom?" he demanded to know.

"We were discussing how wonderful you are," Alexis said, taking the presents, "I'm going to save these for New Years, like a good Russian."

"That's right," Zander said. "You are catching on, comrade."

Later, Quinn and Zander met Peter at the Port Charles Hotel. Oksana had allowed for this little visit, so long as Zander was there. Quinn was glad to see this working out.

Zander and Pete got into a discussion about soccer that Sergei walked away from, to fix some drinks. He smiled at Quinn.

She felt shy, and as if she were interfering, but it was too important to her not to take the opportunity. So she asked Sergei if he knew where Zander's medals were.

"I have them all. Back in the house. In Daytona." Sergei answered her calmly enough. He didn't seem upset or surprised, so she went on: "I thought about him having them, so he has a reminder of some positive things. Achievements he did. Like that. You know, good reminders. That he's good. OK."

Sergei understood her, to her relief. "I can give them to him. You can come and get them, OK? You come down, you and Joe and anybody else in your family - for the Daytona 500 races, in February, maybe - stay in the house - and you can find the medals. And the yearbook from school. Some pictures, I have, too."

He related this plan to Zander, and invited him on this trip for good measure.

Zander said he thought it was a good one. He looked at Quinn, almost shyly. "You can take a vacation, maybe?" he said. "If you can get time off. You'd like that race, I'm sure."

She smiled and said she would try.

"It'll be warm there," he said, as if he were a lawyer arguing a case. "You can sit on the beach. It's a good vacation for you," he said. "You need a break. After that patient gave you all that trouble and all, back in the fall."

"That was pretty hard work. I probably could use a vacation, on account of that one patient."

He laughed and hugged her impulsively. He looked up, still holding her loosely, and asked, "Dad, how did you get that stuff back from Moscow? It must have been in the apartment. You were being carted off to jail."

"I write to Aleksei Semyonovich from jail. He's a neighbor," Sergei explained aside to Quinn. "He shipped the important stuff - he was going to bring it himself, but the consul wouldn't give him a visa."

Quinn laughed, and looked up at Zander, as if explaining: "This consul said Aleksei had to get his green card first, and that would take a year!" 

"That's exactly right, Q-girl," Peter said.

"You are catching on, Quinn" Zander said. "You always have been smart. But Dad, if Aleksei trusted it to the Russian mails, then it isn't in Daytona. It is sitting in a little post office in Siberia. Where it has been for about a year, after a year's sojourn in St. Petersburg."

"That is only too true," Peter explained to Quinn. "Everybody jokes like that about the Russian Post Office."

"Now, Sander, my boy, I know that stuff is more valuable than for trusting it to them! " Sergei protested. "Aleksei could get a visa to London and he shipped it from there. I've seen it. It was there when I get back to the house. I have my assistants keep track of it."

"Thank heavens!" Quinn said. "That is important stuff. I would even send Aleksei a thank-you note, but I don't know if I want samples of my handwriting in the possession of the Siberian authorities."

"You find a very smart lady here, Sander," Sergei said, "She don't have to be told twice."

On Christmas Day, the Connors house was pretty full. Kathleen's parents had gone to her sister's, but her brother was there with his family. Danny's parents were there. Oksana and her two sons were there. Rosa and her two nieces had a week's visit to their hometown.

Quinn had gone over on Christmas Eve. It was still fun on Christmas morning; just her and her two brothers and her parents and Joe. He'd been there early every morning for years, and the habit didn't die even when the children were as old as they were now.

Then everyone got up and straightened up a little and started working on dinner.

Danny claimed to be helping in the kitchen. He'd do a little job and then disappear, telling whoever was there he'd do any job they asked.

"Remember to come up with a job for him at least once an hour," Kathleen told Tim and Quinn.

Tim wasn't doing too bad at helping. He pared potatoes. He cut up carrots. He was a whiz with that kind of thing.

Brad was just too many people in the kitchen, and got out of it on that account. He went outside with a basketball.

When everyone else had come, everything was pretty much ready, with too many people around trying to help.

Quinn got out of the kitchen for that reason.

Standing around in the living room, she looked idly at Tim's Russian book.

"How can you read those letters?" she asked.

"That part wasn't too bad," Tim said. "Like cracking a code. It's the cases and the prepositions that kill you."

"Russian spelling is truer," Zander told her. "When you learn the letters, you can tell how to pronounce the word."

"Except for which syllable the stress goes on," Tim said. "That is the biggest mystery of the universe. If I try to guess, the only rule that works is, that it does not go on the syllable I think it should naturally fall on."

Zander smiled. He took a piece of paper out of Tim's notebook and wrote some of these letters on it. He gave it to Quinn.

"What's that say?" she asked.

"Quinn," he said.

"The K is the only one that I can follow."

"That letter is -oo- like in boot - that one isn't quite the I in Quinn, but it'll have to do. That is an N. "

"An N. It looks like an H."

"No," Tim said, from the chair where he had taken up a game of video baseball against Pete. "It's an N."

Peter said: "Yes Q, it's an N. And the language is so pitiful, it has no Q. That's why Sander used K and -oo- "

"What a funny looking little letter. It looks like a B attached to an I. But then I guess ours look funny to the Russians."

"Funny?" Peter exclaimed. "They are hilarious! None of them have the same sound consistently. Some of them are redundant."

"Which?"

"Think about C. Why does English need C? Where it is, S or K will do. There is no need for this C."

"I have my ending sentences made up, Sander," Tim said. "for the instrumental case. See, these are they - " he got back up and went back to Quinn, and pulled out a folded piece of notebook paper from the book.

"What do your sentences mean in English?" Quinn asked, secretly impressed at Tim's writing in the Russian alphabet.

"Well, it's a fascinating story," Tim said. "It goes like this: I work as a waiter. Dad works as a teacher. I'm going to the opera with Aleksei. My sister works as a nurse. I'm going to the ballet with auntie. The train is behind the station. The table is in front of the window, and the car is in front of the building."

"That is worthy of James Joyce," Quinn said. "But I don't believe you're going to the ballet or the opera with anybody."

"Well, I'll have to if I ever intend to remember the endings for the instrumental case. And that's just one case, Quinn."

"What is hardest about learning English?" Quinn asked.

Zander called across the room: "Mom, come over here, please. Quinn has a question."

Oksana came over. She said it was spelling. "And contractions. Don't and Can't and I'm - now I know those. But I don't like "doesn't." It seems like it should be "don't." I try to use "doesn't" but I think of "don't" first. I try to even not use them, and use "do not." It is hard to hear the end of the past tense. Walkt, it sounds like, and walkt and walk are hard to hear different. Then there is words. There are words that mean 20 things. There are words that sound alike, spelled different. There are words spelled the same but for one letter, but they don't rhyme."

"There's a list that goes around the internet of those.," Zander said. "Crazy things about the English language."

"Some foreigner probably wrote it," Oksana opined.

"What about different accents?" Quinn asked. "In Florida, people had southern ones, didn't they?"

"Some did, some did not. But when they do, they talk slower," Oksana said. "Once you know that accent, they talk a little slower and you can understand it some small bit easier."

"Did you go to church?" Zander asked Quinn, sitting next to her at dinner. Quinn thought she would have to interfere to arrange this herself, but Kathleen happened to put her next to him anyway. "Don't you have to go on Christmas? Pete said we had to go, but we didn't." 

Quinn was amused at Pete the Catholic. "Catholic High School has that much influence after one semester? I'm impressed. You can go on Christmas morning. We went at midnight. You can go at midnight. Only on Christmas."

"Really? How long does it last?"

"Oh, not that long. An hour. Then we come back and eat breakfast. It's fun. We cook breakfast at one in the morning. It's a family tradition. I wish we thought of asking you."

"I don't think Pete knew you could go at midnight. He thought we should go this morning."

"He'll learn," Quinn said.

"He already knows all kinds of interesting stuff from his religion class. "

"I was working on that, Oksana!" Danny was saying, loudly enough to get their attention, "even when I was a student back at that Glorified High School!"

Quinn had no idea what Danny was talking about, but said, "Dad! That's where Zander's going to go to college! Do you have to use that name for it!"

Danny stopped. "Oh, my big mouth! Pay no mind, Zander! I graduated there myself."

"I know," Zander said, almost laughing. "So did Mrs. Connor."

"You remember!" Kathleen exclaimed. "That's sweet. It is a fine institution." 

"They just called it that for the purpose of trying to get Quinn to pick Notre Dame," Joe explained.

"That is true," Danny declared. "When she wanted to go here, instead, when the Fighting Irish were calling her - she wanted to go to PCU to be with her true love, for all time, Scott Jankowski!"

"I was only 18 then!" Quinn defended herself stoutly. "How was I to know he wasn't my true love for all time?"

"OK, there, there, Quinn. I won't call GHS GHS. I'll call it," he slowed down and used a clipped English accent, as extremely snooty as he could make it "Port Charles University."

"Since it is your alma mater," Zander said, "you should."

Danny laughed loudly, and everyone else followed. "You got it, Zander! Port Charles University. Port Charles University," he repeated, with his best upper class accent.

In the week after Christmas, Emily went to Jake's, but Jake told her that Zander didn't live there any longer.

She thought for a minute. She didn't want to try to find his mother's house. Maybe she could find out where he worked. She decided to go ask Alexis.

When she went into Alexis' office, though, she was shocked to see Zander sitting at her desk – the one she'd worked at when she worked for Alexis herself.

He didn't seem glad to see her. This threw her for a loop.

"I have to talk to you," she said.

"I have nothing to say to you and no desire to hear anything you have to say."

She saw that he was mad at her. "I didn't know what had happened. Now I do."

"You wouldn't hear my side before, and I'm not hearing yours now, and besides – never mind – I wrote you a letter I couldn't send. I'll send it to you at home."

"My parents will take it when they see it's from you."

"Oh, that's right. I forgot. You're too much of a baby to handle your own mail."

"You don't have to be so mean! My family never told me Carly shot you."

"I don't care."

"I can't believe you're mad at me! I had no way of knowing all this! I had no choice."

"You did have a choice. You always have a choice. You could have told me where you were at any time!"

"I promised my family. If you had not agreed to my going away this would never have happened."

"You agreed too! Geez Emily, are you responsible for _anything_ you do?"

"You wanted me to go."

"Of course I did. I was sick of hearing how I wrecked your life and deprived you of every opportunity. Your father and mother convinced me you needed to go."

"But what have you been doing all this time?"

"Life. I have a family. I have a job. I have a girlfriend. And I don't have time for you." He started dialing on the phone. "Read the letter. It'll be at Deception. In Oksana Kanishcheva's office."

"Who is that?"

"My mother." He wasn't looking at her, and attended to the business over the phone.

Alexis came out of her office, having gotten off the phone. She asked if she had really heard Emily?

"Yeah. What a lot of nerve. She even acted like she thought I was waiting around for her to discover she was wrong about me locking up AJ. I think she believed I was going to jump for joy. Oh, I'm sorry Alexis," he said, realizing, "maybe she was here to see you. I kind of drove her away. Told her I was going to send her the letter I wrote her in response to hers, but couldn't actually send because she goes to college at an undisclosed location."

"That's OK. If she wants to see me, it's be tough for her to do that without running into you, but that's life. What effect do you think that letter will have?"

"It tells her to leave me alone."

"Will she listen?"

"I think so. She has no reason not to. She's got someone else. I told her I did."

"Good for you." Alexis smiled warmly. She put her hands on his shoulders, "I really like your someone else. For you, I do. You need a grown-up, who can understand what she is getting into."

"Very funny," he said, but he patted on of her hands.

Emily went to Lucky first, and explained what had happened.

"Are you sure?" Lucky asked her. He had stopped his photo shoot to attend to her. "You don't need this. It's all over."

"I'm sure. I want to at least figure out what he's so mad about. Let's go."

They went up to the executive floor. Lucky gave their names to the receptionist.

As they waited, she told him: "He was wearing a tie. And he looked younger, somehow. That's the only way I can describe it. Younger. And he acted more immature than he did before."

The receptionist said they could go in.

Oksana was putting down the phone, and was on her feet behind the desk.

Emily's jaw dropped. She saw the same bright dark hair. The same big eyes. She stared, and said nothing.

Lucky was glad he was there. "This is Emily Quartermaine. Oksana. Emily was a model once. I came with her as her friend. Zander has a letter for her?"

"This is yours then," Oksana said, handing the letter over to Emily. "My son ask me to give it to you. Are you looking for a job?"

"No," Emily answered, recovering. "I guess Zander told you only bad stuff about me."

"Nothing at all. If you are interested, leave your photos."

Oksana took Peter to the hospital for an EKG. Peter thought it was a riot, but he cooperated. A couple of times he pretended to be keeling over, saying, "my heart!"

The EKG technician smiled. "It's a precaution. I can see you are stout of heart."

Sergei was in the waiting room when they came out.

"OK, Dad, it's your turn," Peter said. "Don't keel over, OK? We'll wait for you."

They had agreed to take Peter out to lunch after this, at his request, and they figured that prepared to, they could last an hour without a battle. Zander was at work. Oksana even thought it might be easier without Zander. If they told him after they had succeeded in getting through it without any cross words, they would do better with him.

Sergei didn't get it, but went along without arguing. He didn't see why Oksana thought Zander was such a bear, but knew that arguing with her was futile.

"Very nice!" Gail was saying, as she saw the Quartermaine family, gathered together to go out for lunch. "You all look splendid! A handsome family!"

The handsome family went to the elevators.

"If we stop by ICU, so I can pick up a report," Monica said, "I'll be set for the day."

"You aren't going to read that report at lunch, Mom," Emily protested.

"I'll look at it in the car on the way over."

The elevator stopped on a couple of other floors, but no one else got in. Anyone waiting for an elevator and saw the chief of staff and Dr. Monica Quartmermaine, AJ, Dr. Jason and even Skye and Emily, was not bold enough to take that one.

Employees in the lobbies affected whispered among themselves when they were sure the elevator doors had closed. Most of the employees of the hospital liked the family members individually - there were a few who admitted that they didn't like bratty Emily - but together, the Quartermaine Family was, well, no fun at all. They were referred to behind their back as "The Family" which of course led to "The Manson Family," which led to "The Mansons -" good enough code even to use in front of them, had they dared. The female employees would then fall to discussing what they saw of Skye's jewelry and clothes - always impressive.

Quinn was in the lounge area for a moment with Sergei, Oksana and Peter, feeling really gratified that they took time to stop by only to say hello to her. She turned instinctively when she heard the sound of the elevator bell, and was momentarily stunned to see the Mansons exit, as one, and as if they were a small herd of tigers.

Monica looked fairly civil, picking up her report from Joanna, and asked if they had been in to do EKGs. Oksana confirmed that.

"That's Zander's mother," Emily said, without thinking.

"Yes," Monica said, apparently up to trying to make it work out without a battle. "Uncanny resemblance, no? This is Oksana, which we are allowed to use rather than trip on the last name. And his father, Sergei, and his brother Peter," she added. "This is my family, Dr. Alan Quartermaine, my husband, and my children, Skye, AJ, Dr. Jason and Emily Quartermaine."

"Very glad to meet you," Oksana said. Peter was well trained enough to say the same thing. Sergei looked like he didn't know what was going on.

"So you're Zander's parents," Dr. Alan Quartermaine said. Quinn didn't like the tone, nor did she like it when he went on, "You haven't done a very good job, have you?"

They all stared.

"Unless you think raising a high school drug dealer is a good job," he continued, sarcastically.

"Dad," Emily started to protest. 

"Never mind, Emily," Monica said. "Put a sock in it, Alan. Let's go. Nice to have seen you," she said, as the Mansons retreated to the elevator, she with her report in her hand.

"Those are my patient's family," Monica was unable to contain herself when the door had shut on them again. "Keep your personal comments for outside the hospital."

"Sorry, dear," Alan said absently. "I was completely taken by surprise. I never knew they existed. In fact, now I'm amazed. I never even thought about Zander's parents. So I said the first thing that came to mind without thinking."

"Then you can go easier on Zander about acting without thinking," Monica said.

"Enough of Zander," AJ said. "This is a holiday party! We're all together, and we have Emily home for Christmas Break. Let's have fun, not be arguing about Zander. Haven't we had enough of that?"

"They were fun," Peter said, "Where do they keep them locked up, Q.?"

"In the basement," Quinn said.

"They looked like they were going out," Oksana said.

"Rumor has it they are going out to lunch," Joanna said, helpfully. "They'll probably go to the Port Charles Grill, which they own."

"You wouldn't happen to be going there, would you?" Quinn asked mischievously.

"The Outback is very nice," Oksana said. "Please - come along," she said to Quinn and Joanna.

"Thank you," Quinn said, "I'd love to, but there's no way we have a long enough break for it."

"Another time, then."

"Yes," Quinn smiled, "for sure." She watched them into the elevator.

"You have my cell number Q.," Pete said, yanking her braid a little bit as he went after them. "Call me if you want to find out if they run into each other in the parking garage. You strike me as the type who wants a warning of the next World War."

"Go on," Quinn giggled.

"That was close," Joanna commented, after the elevator door had shut on them.

Finally, the day before New Year's Eve, in the afternoon, Elizabeth was there when Emily went by her studio. Lucky always wanted to go with her, but Emily thought his presence would stifle everything.

Elizabeth was friendly, hugged her even, and bade her come in.

Emily recognized the nurse in the picture.

"Zander knew about Vinnie, Elizabeth," she said. "Why'd you tell him?"

"I did? I don't remember. Are you sure you didn't tell someone else?"

"Nobody."

"Not Lucky?"

"I told Lucky, but he didn't tell Zander."

"I think it was the letter. When I was in the hospital, your letter was there. Zander was in the ICU when I was. He came to my room a couple of times. Told me about your letter breaking up with him. He was talking about why you did it. I remember now. I thought he should know the real reason."

"But it wasn't like that," Emily said. "I broke up with Zander before I got with Vinnie. And you were in the hospital? I didn't know that either."

"That's how it is bound to be when no one can reach you. But how much time before?" Elizabeth asked. "It didn't look like it was very much sooner. Your letter to me wasn't dated much later. You were over it all very quickly. Nobody begrudges you your right to a social life at college though. It doesn't matter now, anyway."

"You've got to help me straighten Zander out," Emily argued.

"About what? You've got nothing left with Zander anyway. Why bother? Just go back to college and back to Vinnie."

"We broke up. I don't want Zander to be mad at me for no reason, that's all."

"Is he mad at you?"

"He won't talk to me."

"That's understandable. But so what? You don't want to talk to him either."

"I don't see why he can't be friendly. Maybe we can work it out, eventually."

"I don't see what there is to work out. You've got someone new; OK, you broke up with him, but you'll be going back to school, where you're likely to meet someone else. Zander has someone new, who lives here, where he lives."

"Why did you break up with Lucky?" 

"We really drifted apart."

"That's not true. I know you met someone else. How could you do that to Lucky?"

"Same way you could do it to Zander, I guess."

"But Lucky hadn't done anything. I thought Zander had locked AJ up."

"It is more complicated than that."

"What's complicated? You love Lucky."

"I was in high school when I thought that."

"And past high school."

"I know, but you grow up eventually."

"How did you end up doing this painting of this girl, when you stole her boyfriend?"

"I knew her in the hospital. She was the nurse on my case. And she was on her way to breaking with him in the long run. I knew she liked Zander, even when we were in the hospital, and I hadn't met Paul yet."

"She said that?"

"No. I could tell. Even if she couldn't."

"She likes him. But whether he likes her, is another thing."

"He does. I don't see it makes any difference to you."

"When I knew Zander had not done anything wrong to AJ, and when I knew I couldn't be with Vinnie, well that sort of puts it back where it was, doesn't it?"

"No. Everything still happened. You told Zander you were done with him! So he went on as if that were true! You can't erase that by breaking up with Vinnie now!"

"He shouldn't have known about Vinnie, Elizabeth."

"Yes he should, and you should have told him."

"I wasn't talking to him anymore, but that was for a reason that turns out to be wrong!"

"You still can't undo those months that passed!"

"I didn't do anything wrong, is all."

"No. Perhaps not. It all happened. I suppose things happen. He can't undo how close he is to Quinn."

"Who is this?" Emily asked, looking at the picture of Paul with the motorcycle.

"That's Paul."

Emily looked at it for awhile.

"So you love this Paul?"

"I don't know."

"Everything's really changed," Emily said.

"Your grades aren't even good. I can't believe this report. You were at the head of your class your senior year," Monica was looking at Emily's report card.

"This is college. It's harder."

Monica sighed. "I suppose so. I hope you're getting settled in there. You've got to buckle down next semester. I know you can do better than this."

"Are you going to make me to go PCU?" Emily asked.

"Of course not. I don't think you should miss out on going away to college. But you've got to study, too."

"I will. I had all that going on with Vinnie."

"Merely having a boyfriend is no reason not to get good grades!"

"He's still there. Maybe I shouldn't go back."

"He's not the only one there! You have friends there! You were telling me all about them on the drive from the airport!" 

AJ was amazed. He saw Quinn, who he had always thought was cute, and had a terrific personality - friendly, and caring, with a good sense of humor - out on the upper floor patio at the end of the hall in ICU - talking out there, alone, with Zander. Standing really close to that deviant, she then reached up and gave him a kiss. A really nice kiss, which lasted long enough for AJ to shake his head and wonder for the hundredth time how Zander managed it.

It must be sheer lack of effort, AJ mused. Maybe the rest of us think too hard about how to impress a girl. He turned around, when they finally stopped kissing and looked then like they were walking back in.

A little later, curious, and knowing Zander wasn't likely to reveal these secrets he knew, AJ stopped and didn't go in when he heard Quinn and Joanna talking in the break room.

"What are you doing on your day off?" he heard Joanna asking.

"Ice skating. Going out to dinner."

"With whom?"

"Zander."

"What happened to the no date vow?"

"This is different. We're friends."

"Oh, you're just friends. Tell me about it."

"Now, don't be so cynical. In a way, he is the perfect date. Here are the reasons: He's three years younger. Not finished school. Has to reconcile with parents and reunite with brother. Not entirely over last girlfriend. No further along than I am when it comes to that. No time or energy for any commitment. Underage, so always the designated driver and I can drink up a storm. "

"Ha ha ha. So you are safe from too-early proposals?"

"And from drifting on because it is so proper, so - supposed to work, on paper."

"Are you sure you don't simply want him?"

"Of course I do! For the reasons I gave! "

Joanna sighed. "I thought your wild streak was played out driving on the speedway."

"It must not be."

"OK, have your wild oats sown. Not a bad idea, actually."

"You should try it."

Oksana explained to Gail: "I'm not as upset as he thinks about drug dealing. I'm upset he rather do that than come back to me. I'd give you money to survive without you having to talk to me," she turned to Zander. "You do not have to resort to things like that."

"Violating the legal rules, and you're not upset? I don't believe it, Mom," Zander said.

"You must so stubbornly insist on a thing once you think you know it!" Oksana exclaimed, with exasperation. "I am not so - so - so - stuck, stuck about a legal rule!"

"Then I don't have to call you for a hand-out and can break a few while I'm at it."

"Stop saying things like that! You're my minor child. You were. You're a minor child. Even over 18, you're my son. What hand-out? Where do you get names for things that sound bad, for things that are not bad? I work hard. OK, you do not like it, maybe I overdo it. I did it so you would live good. Certainly not have to do illegal things! What happen to some of those kids you sell drugs to?

"See, sure enough, that's my fault. Nobody forced them too. Rich spoiled high school kids, buying drugs, that is the fault of the drug dealer. They had no choice. Their parents had no choice but to leave them free for long periods of time without knowing what they were doing. And yeah, you work hard. Have to leave that at my door too. If you were doing it to support me, you may as well have stopped when you had as much money as the Connors have. But you had to do more than that. Way more. You did it for yourself. You like it, it's your thing. You have a right to it. But you don't have to lay it all on me. "

"Good point," Gail said, and to Oksana, "Let's not bring those kids and their problems into it. One issue at a time. I think Zander feels bad about this drug dealing, because he thinks you think less of him for it. "

"Right," Zander agreed, spiritedly. "I think so much of this conditional love, stuff. It reminds me of my old girlfriend. All I have to do is screw up. I can do that without trying. So they're always about to leave! Boy, Mom, you've been tricked. Now you moved yourself and Pete to a town where everybody knows you have a son that's a drug dealer. There goes your reputation. I knew you would be sorry!"

"I do not care what they think in the town! They know you better than I do! Nobody before even said a word! Why does this Dr. Quartermaine tell me when his wife didn't?"

"Well, wait a minute," Gail said. "These details are beside the point. Zander, it seems to me you know Oksana will take care of you unconditionally, but your concern is she doesn't love you if you've screwed up, as you so elegantly put it."

"What's the difference?" Oksana looked a little bewildered.

"Do you think you're the family scapegoat?" Gail asked Zander.

"I don't know. No. Not _this_ family's scapegoat."

"Well, you can think about that for the next week," Gail said. "And following up from before, Zander, what did you do that was fun?"

"Fun? Oh. I did something."

"And?"

"I - let me think. I think I went Christmas shopping, with Quinn. Will that do?"

"Yes. OK. Anything else?"

"We put a tree in the gatehouse, and decorated the tree. We went to see Dad - we were watching Pete with Dad. It was fun anyway."

"OK."

"I could not avoid things that weren't fun," he went on. "When my old girlfriend came to the office and I realize she must be here for Christmas vacation. She wants to talk to me about stuff that no longer matters and turn her dumping me into my fault. Her family is going to blame me for this very conversation she initiated, and claim I was trying to talk to her. I can't wait to run into one of them."

"Who is this?" Oksana asked.

"Emily, the one I gave you the letter for," Zander answered.

"Oh, that explain it," Oksana said to Gail, "she is Dr. Quartermaine's daughter, then."

"Aren't you going to ask me what I did to her?" Zander demanded of Oksana. "Well come on, Mom? Don't you want to know my other screw-ups?"

"I do not know you did anything to her, except write her a letter," Oksana said.

"Hang around the Quartermaines, and you will find the way to blame me for all of her problems."

"I do not want to. I really do not care about her. She have family. I saw them all. You are my concern, not her."

"Really? You were worried about unnamed drug users. I was responsible for all their problems."

"Do not do a thing like that again," Oksana said. "I will help you. Your father will. I worry about those kids only a little. I worry about you more. You do a thing like that, and you get into dangerous things. To you. I do not like it because it can hurt _you_."

"Maybe there isn't a no screw-up condition here after all, Zander," Gail said.

Zander scowled. He looked doubtful. But he didn't argue. By now, Gail knew this was a good sign.

"Let's try, Oksana, to be consciously avoiding criticism, blaming, and things like that," Gail said. "They don't work," she added, knowing this was a most persuasive point for this particular patient.

"You could let her stay, if she wanted to," AJ was telling Ned and Alan. "He's got a girlfriend. I don't know how he does it! This nurse, she's the cutest one in the whole hospital. What in the world does she see in Zander? I love my sister and I think she's the greatest, but she made a very bad judgment call there. OK. She was in high school. Romanticized the legal system. Thought she wanted to be a lawyer. He was the oppressed, unjustly treated defendant. In her romantic mind, anyway. But here is a girl who is - really a woman, who is - a professional, a college graduate, has dated a doctor - now I'm really amazed. Then on the general help-Zander end, there's Alexis, and Mom, and V. the cop and every other woman who crosses this guy's path. They go out of their way to wreck their lives to help him."

"As you said, she dates Zander only for fun," Ned observed. "She won't think she's in love with him. That's the difference."

"That probably is the best use any woman could have for Zander. Maybe it isn't such a bad judgment call for this particular young woman. You've got a point."

"How does he get so lucky?" Ned mused, as if repeating that question might yield an answer.

"Who knows? I've asked myself that question so many times I can't think straight. But this nurse, well, she realizes he's too young and has too many problems. So it's only to have some fun. She's the type everyone wants to marry; beautiful and smart and stable. She wants to have some fun first. That's her due. Zander is useful for that, with his wildness. He's too young and too unstable for anything more. So she's made a wise choice, that way."

"OK, that explains her," Ned answered. "It's a start." 

"Hi, guys," Emily said, coming in.

"Emily! How long were you here?" AJ asked, conscious of what he had said about her.

"Not long," she said. She had stopped when she heard them talking about Zander, to let them say what they had to say without thinking they were saying it in her hearing. Then she had come in. This was the Quartermaine way.

She told them she had not heard anything.

Zander was in the office again, taking a break to work on the computer on a banner which would say, "Happy New Year, Quinn," in Russian. He wanted to see if she would recognize her name.

He positively scowled at being interrupted at this with the entrance of Emily Quartermaine.

"I can't believe Elizabeth told you about Vinnie. That' s what you're so mad about, isn't it?"

"Not now. Now I just don't have time," he said, hitting "Save."

"I'd have come back if I'd have known you got shot."

"You'd have still thought I locked AJ up! You'd still have your new boyfriend. How could that have made a difference?"

"I would have come back! Then I wouldn't have been with Vinnie! You could have explained about AJ then!"

"What difference should it make if you really had loved me, you still would have, without coming back and without my having been shot!"

"I can't believe you are mad at me! I didn't know."

"Did you hear what you said? You'd have been here and you wouldn't have broken up with me. You were there, so you were with this Vinnie. That's what made the difference. Whether or not I was shot or not did not make any. It was only your physical location that mattered."

"I don't have a boyfriend any more," she said, hopeful that this would mollify him a little bit. "Vinnie and I broke up. He has a child. He was keeping it a secret."

"Then how did you find out? Never mind. I don't want to know."

"I was wrong about Vinnie."

"I'm not wrong about Quinn."

"I have to go back to school. And don't come after me, if you're going to be so mean!"

"You have nothing to worry about there! I won't be coming after you again. I told you I have a girlfriend. A grown-up. A woman."

"Well, you're nothing to her. Nothing but a toy. Everybody at the hospital knows."

She marched out, feeling highly wronged.

"You said she wasn't his girlfriend," she accused Lucky, later.

"She's not."

"He keeps saying she _is_."

"He's lying. Trying to get to you. Trying to get you to feel jealous. Get back at you for Vinnie."

"He is awfully mad. That could be true. Anyway, she's not all that serious about him. Keep an eye on him, will you?"

"What? You're done with him, Emily?"

"Would you say the same thing about Elizabeth?"

"No. OK. I'll know what happens. How will I be able to avoid it, with Oksana around?"

"Tell me when she dumps him."

"Right. By that time, you'll have another Vinnie around."

"Why would you say that?"

He put an arm around her and shook her a little bit. "Sorry. OK. But have the background reports done first, next time, OK?"

"Let me know what goes on," she said. "I'll give you my email address." She took a notepad out of her purse and a pen and started writing. "I'm at the University of Kentucky. At Lexington."

"I won't tell anybody that. That you for giving me your confidence, Emily."

"Let's stay in touch," she said. "It wasn't such a good idea for me to know nothing. I don't want to come home for Spring Break to find everything changed around yet again. Zander may not like me now, but he could change his mind, and I won't have any warning."

"Yeah, never thought about that," Lucky said. "I'll be sure it stays a secret from him where you are."

"Thanks, Lucky. You're the greatest friend anybody could ever have."


	85. Chapter 85

**Part 85**

Zander called Quinn up the morning of New Year's Eve to ask her if she was ready for New Year's.

"I think so," she said.

"I bet you aren't ready for Russian New Year. You need new clothes and new shoes by midnight."

"They wear new clothes on New Year's?"

"Yes. But you don't really have to. It is the tradition."

"I like this tradition. Mom will, too. We'll be on it this afternoon, don't doubt that."

"OK. You also have to throw out all the broken utensils from the house, and wash the windows and mirrors. "

"I will," Quinn said, laughing.

There was a wonderful dinner, that started at 10 p.m. There was Oksana and her two sons, the Connors, Joe Quinn, Alexis and her two brothers. The dinner was very interesting: they had tomatoes topped with mushrooms and cheese, a salad with carrots and apples, red caviar sandwiches, duck, and mushrooms in cream.

"Almost every Russian loves mushrooms," explained Zander. "They put them in everything."

"I wish I'd know that," Stefan said. "I'd have liked them, then."

They had a Cake with a decoration like a clock, and a hot drink made out of jam and honey with cinnamon.

Later on, waiting for midnight, Alexis and her brother Stefan were trying to talk with Oksana in Russian. They broke into frequent laughter.

"Stefan asked you if the snow likes you?" Alexis asked.

"No, he tell me I will turn into snow," Oksana answered.

"Let me try this again," said Stefan.

Peter showed Quinn a little statue of Grandfather Frost, who was just like Santa Claus, he told her, except: he wore blue, not red. He didn't bring coal to evildoers – he froze them. He brought presents to the children, though, on New Year's Eve. He had three horses, not deer. He does not live at the North Pole, but has an office in Velikiy Ustug.

"An office!" Quinn laughed.

"That's what we call it," Peter grinned. "The rest of the time, you see, his job is to organize blizzards and snow fallings."

"Does he do a good job? People might wish he didn't."

"Yes. There are so many of them, he must be good at his job, right, Q?"

When it got close to midnight, everyone got a glass of champagne, to toast the New Year, by saying goodbye to the old one and wishing that the new one would treat you kindly.

"You know it's midnight," Zander said, "by turning on the radio - or the TV - so we know when the clock of the Spasskaya Tower of the Moscow Kremlin strikes midnight. But we have to make do with the ball in Times Square."

So when the people in Times Square were yelling and screaming on the TV, and fireworks booming off in the distance in Port Charles, they were toasting each other, and drinking champagne. It was unusually quiet. 

"Feels very formal," Quinn said. "Compared to all the yelling and shouting of American New Year. But it's really nice. Different. Thank you," she said. The rest of her family echoed her. 

Everyone got into a bustle of exchanging presents. Quinn did not have one from Zander. "Yours is at the gatehouse," he explained.

They walked up there later, when everyone else was chattering and looking at presents. He showed her the banner he had made on the computer. "What does that say?" he asked.

"Happy New Year?"

"Good guess. But what's the last word?"

She looked carefully. "K, N – the H is an N?"

"Right."

"I remember. Quinn. That's Quinn. What a nice thing to do."

She had carried his present up. It was a CD of Irish music. "I got to thinking, the folk music is really central to that culture," she said. "I figure that has to illuminate it some way."

He smiled. "Thank you. I really like this."

He gave her a little box.

"Cute," she said. It was a little Russian lady doll, that you can open up to get another one that is smaller, and open up to get another one that's smaller. Quinn sat down on the couch, and put the little dolls on the coffee table. Zander sat on the floor on the other side. She opened another and another and was laughing, expecting them to stop well before they did. 

"Matrushka Dolls, they call those," he said.

"Matrushka. Doesn't that mean grandmother?"

"No, that's Babushka."

"Does it mean mother?"

"I guess you could say that."

"You can only guess? Tim's right. What a language!"

"It's like, saying, Mamacita, maybe?" 

"OK. I can get that."

"My first New Year in a long time, with a New Year's tree," he said.

She smiled. "Are you happy?"

"I think so! No one ever asks me that. Yes. I think I am."

"It's my first one without a boyfriend in years," Quinn said. "It's not bad. I'm free."

"You might have to modify that," he said. "I took the liberty of calling you my girlfriend, to Emily, when she came into the office."

"You saw Little Emily?"

"Yeah, and I read her the riot act!"

"I wish I had been there!"

He laughed. "Me, too."

"Was it an accident?"

"I don't think so. I can't be sure, but I think she wanted to find me. She told me the wonderful news of how she figured out I wasn't guilty in the AJ case. I think she thought I was going to jump for joy that I was off the hook. I told her I had nothing to say to her; then to get her to leave, I told her I would send her the letter I wrote. She knew her parents wouldn't let her get it, so I told her to go to Deception and get it from Oksana."

"Aren't you mischievous? Did she know Oksana was your mother yet?"

"I think I told her that. Then a couple of days later, having read that letter, she shows up again. Now she's telling me Elizabeth should not have told me about the guy she dated at school, and that she wasn't dating that guy anymore anyway. She wanted to prove she was in the right, I guess. Her family didn't tell her everything about AJ, and so she broke up with me, which she sees as entirely unavoidable."

"You don't think she wants you back?"

"No, I wouldn't have said that. I think she wants to be the one in the right. I'm supposed to be the one in the wrong. Or her family is, or someone else."

"I hope it didn't make you too unhappy."

"No. Anyway, I told her both times I had another girlfriend."

"You can call me that to her all you want."

"Thanks," he smiled. "Then she told me the whole hospital knows I'm only a toy to you. I don't know where she got that."

"I've never talked to her, ever," Quinn said. "I only saw her for a second when the whole family came through the ICU with Dr. Monica. They saw Pete and your parents – did you know about that?"

"Yes. Alan Quartermaine told them I was dealing drugs. I had told Dad about it. Mom, however, was new to this and was having a fit about it. It was such a great thing that they managed to take Pete out for an hour without being jerks about it. Figures the Quartermaines happened along. Nothing can go entirely right."

He got up and put the Irish CD on, at a low volume. "But what a miracle," he said, eyes wide with wonder.

He sat back down. "It would be hard to argue with Peter there chattering and teasing you to get along. Making you laugh and all that."

"Yes."

"If I were there, there probably would have been a fight," he said.

Quinn put one of the smaller dolls on her finger, and shook her at Zander, addressing him in Quinn's idea of a Russian accent: "Now don't say that."

"OK," he said to the doll, "but somehow it happens. I'm glad those three went. Pete got to be with both parents without some issue coming up."

"This is because Pete is a thoughtless youth," the doll said. "He has older brother to handle all the issues. "

"OK," Zander laughed, then took the doll and put her under a bigger one, as if to shut her up. "What did the Quartermaines do?"

"They came out of the elevator. All dressed up. Since I had seen the other three before, I knew the younger girl was Emily. She was the one that said, 'that's Zander's mother.' I didn't know you'd gotten her into the same room with Oksana to get that letter, so I thought she could tell by looking at Oksana. Then Dr. Alan made his insulting statements, Dr. Monica told Dr. Alan to be quiet, herded all of them back into the elevator, and they were gone. Your parents and Pete left a minute later. You know, I bet they were all on your side at that moment. It could have helped your parents get along."

"I'm glad Pete was there," Zander said. "Your theory could be true, but I bet it's not. Mom could have started blaming Dad for my criminal record, and then he would have said she was making too big a deal of it."

"It's all in the past, though," Quinn answered. "And Dr. Alan addressed them together, as it were. I really felt like they were on the same side. That Dr. Alan was pushing them onto the same side."

"I hope you're right. If you are, it may be the first thing they agreed on in years. I never did inspire agreement in them, though."

"It's not your fault."

He looked at her appreciatively. He got up and sat on the couch next to her and put his arms around her. She leaned back against him, one of the little dolls in her hands, looking at it, turning it around. "I know," she said. "It was what I said to Joanna. She was asking me all these questions."

"Which you deserve, Nurse Question."

Quinn made the little doll hit him lightly in the chest. "I thought we were the only ones there, but I should have realized the walls have ears around there. I told her you were perfect, because you don't need all that serious stuff. I was off the hook from Paul and his dumb marriage proposal, and I said I felt like I could have a good time with you who is far from thinking about all that stuff. If somebody heard that and it went around the hospital gossip train, which always changes and exaggerates a story, and then someone wanted to spin it to be as mean as possible, then it could end up coming out as me considering you a toy. But I don't. I was trying to tell Joanna we have no pressure from each other."

"You forgot my house and Pete and Little Emily, that I am putting through school. I need help. I am closer than you think."

The doll was lecturing him again. "You let Oksana and the Doctor Quartermaines do that for them and just take me ice skating."

"You sound like my shrink," he told the doll. "Always advising me to do something fun."

"She's a good shrink," said the doll.

"Oh be quiet," he said to the doll, taking her and putting her on the table. Then he leaned over to kiss her puppeteer-operator.

When Zander and Quinn walked back to the main house, everyone was starting to leave. "Happy New Year" echoed back and forth.

Zander walked her to her car. She opened the door, then turned and said, "I really like that quieter New Year. I can imagine it without Times Square and all that shouting. Just the clock chiming. Romantic. Or is there a crowd there?"

"No, I don't think so. There are more traditions there. That no one will break. Nobody'd go there. They stay home, because it's the way you do things. A few people might have noisy parties. We were in the neighbor's apartment, or they were in ours. There were a lot of people around, but it was quieter. You heard the chiming, they did the toast. Then the president came on the TV and congratulated everyone!"

"Quaint. Charming."

All the other cars had gone down the drive, and Oksana and Pete had gone inside.

"There's one last little quaint tradition."

"OK. I'm in the mood for those."

"You can't drive your car the first time in any New Year, until you hug the oldest son of the party host."

She laughed, and hugged him. "You're funny," she said. "And everyone else drove away without keeping that tradition."

"I don't know what effect that will have on them," he said. "You will get one wish come true for it."

"This tradition gets more complex!" She reached up and kissed him. "I made that one up," she said. "It's for nurses. If the first one you kiss in a new year is your worst patient from the old year, then you will have good luck all year."

He smiled, and then shut her door for her, and she backed out and drove down the driveway. 

"Are you all right working and studying at the same time?" Alexis asked Zander, as they sat in traffic in the snow one morning.

"I think so. I would go nuts if I didn't work with you. If I tried to study all day, with nothing else to do – I can't even picture that. I could never get started, knowing I had nothing else to do all day."

Alexis smiled. "I think I can identify. If I had all day to study in law school or college, I'm sure I never considered that totally wonderful."

Amanda had been coming to the office early in the morning, and spending a couple of hours a day with Zander there, before the day got started, and an hour or so in the evening, reviewing the same things.

"It does a lot," Zander told Alexis. "More than you would think. It must be that the whole day you spend in school is a lot of time on other things. With a tutor you skip everything else and only need a couple of hours a day to do the actual lessons."

"And in a regular class they'd spend the time evenly. Amanda can spend a lot of time on what you might need explanations for, and less on what you already get."

"I took a dry run test and I did pretty well with the English," he said. "Not too bad on the Science and Math parts. Then there was the English literature, which I was short in. So we work more on that. The part they call Social Studies – I was good with the economics and the geography and the political science, and ok with the history except the American history. I don't know that so well. I went to school here 8 years. They didn't teach us much of it, I guess. What I did get on that test I had learned in Russia somehow."

"You understand the legal system pretty well," Alexis observed.

"Too much experience with it!"

"See, it wasn't all bad. It'll be useful."

Later, Zander and Alexis went to Dara Jenson's office. He had testified in court before, so he only needed some reminders, he said. At first, Dara Jenson had been adversarial to him, before, since she was the prosecutor. Then he was her witness in a case against a higher up drug dealer. Now he was her witness and the victim of the crime.

He had not seen much regarding the shooting itself, but now, it turned out, Dara wanted to get his testimony on about every single thing that had happened with AJ before the shooting. It had all become relevant, somehow.

Zander had difficulty remembering what time it was when each of these things happened. Dara had some computer records from the computer he had been working on. There were times recorded in these records, when he had done what. He recalled how the job was done, and was able to get more detailed about how long it had been between one thing and another.

He clearly remembered Sonny telling him to lock the door. "Was this normal?"

"Yes, we locked that door every night."

"Was it normally your job?"

"No, not particularly."

"Who made sure it was locked?"

"We did – nobody in particular."

"Was it odd for Sonny to tell you to do it?"

"It was unusual. But it didn't feel odd. Not suspicious."

"When did you first become aware of AJ that day?"

"When he was in the storeroom. I went in for some reason. He was there and Sonny was there, too."

"Did you have anything to do with getting AJ there, at all?"

"No. There he was."

"So it was unusual?"

"Not so I would notice. I knew the family well, and I knew, from my girlfriend at the time, about how Sonny's wife was AJ's ex-wife, and how they fought over custody of their son. So it wasn't entirely strange to me that though AJ was not usually there, that he had come there to argue with Sonny about something."

"I need you to establish these times and what you've seen. I won't take long. Now on the cross examination, as I remember before, you were pretty good about that. Don't give them more than they ask for; that way they run out of steam faster. If 'yes' or 'no' will answer the question, say only that. If it makes it seem wrong, leave it alone until it's my turn again. I can clear it up then."

"I remember that."

"All right. Just do your best."

Zander and Quinn went skating around the indoor rink at Port Charles University. When they finally took a rest, Quinn exclaimed about how much he could do.

"You are so comfortable on a slippery surface wearing only thin blades! I only go often enough to get my balance each time I go, after trying to for at least 15 minutes. Yet there you are skating backwards and sideways and jumping and twirling around."

"Another one of those Russian things, there's so much time to do it and so many places to skate," he said. "Then it's like riding a bike; it comes back after a little while."

"Still, you're so solid, sure of what you're doing – like it's not harder than walking."

"Genetic, too, because my parents did a lot of it when they were young, and they were both pretty good. Good enough to get on the national team and get to America."

"I didn't know that. That's a good question I never thought of. How they got here so they could defect."

"A question Quinn did not think of! What a thought! I think he was her coach, or one of the coaches."

"When they were supposed to go back, they just stayed?"

"It was harder than that. I should get them to tell you. It's interesting, that story. I think you would like it."

"It sounds intriguing. Do you want to go out on the ice again?"

"Want me to lift you up and spin you around? You could feel like you're flying."

"Don't even think about it!"

"Didn't you get picked up while cheerleading? Doesn't Mercy High have those guy cheerleaders who pick you up?"

"No," she said. "Had they existed, their feet would have been on solid ground. The whole areas of the bottoms of their shoes would be on solid grass that you can stand on without sliding!"

"You have an aptitude," Zander answered. "You balance very well."

"Thank you. I think."

They went to Kelly's on the way back. Drinking hot chocolate reminded Quinn of the Russian hot drink from New Year's.

"I guess that culture is expert on drinks that warm you up," she said. "I think I'll look up those recipes."

"Oh, I'll find them for you," he said. "You need them."

Quinn waved to Bobbie Spencer as she came in. 

"Dr. Jones got a subpoena to go to court today," she said to Zander, reminded of him, because he was Nurse Spencer's husband. "About you – how you got shot and what he did with the bullets."

"I get to go too, I'm afraid."

"If I'm not on day shift, I'll go so you have a cheerleader."

"I'd hate to start ruining your life like I did Emily's," he said, grinning a little bit.

"I think I would find it interesting," Quinn said, shoving his arm playfully. "As interesting as she did. I always wanted to know how they solved the case. Where the bullets were and whether they could match them to the gun."

"I don't know," Zander said. "That would be part of the evidence, for the trial."

"They could get the defendant to plead."

"I suppose they could. I think Carly should plead insanity. She qualifies, up front, no question, clearly, and unmistakably."

"Do you know her very well?"

"Not so much so as I've heard all about her. She and AJ got together one night, and she got pregnant. They were friends and he was drunk, or something. They weren't in love and all that stuff."

"And all that stuff!"

"Yes, that stuff. He marries her anyway. They have their son. She lived there in the big house with all of them; that's how they generally do things. When you get married, you don't move away, just move your spouse into the big house."

"Your new associate member."

"Right! You move the associate member in. Promptly, they begin feuding with at least one in-law. Carly was not really the Quartermaine type. I don't know what background she had, but it was not upper class, and so she didn't merely fit in easily. You have to have a thick skin to live with the Quartermaines, I believe. They insult each other all day; except for Emily; maybe it's being the youngest that gets her out of it. Well, and another exception is Jason, but you still feel that he's only keeping his insults to himself. The grandfather is the worst. The grandmother makes you feel like she's on your side. She's the only one who can shut him up. Then there's Ned, the cousin, he's the most judgmental – well, I shouldn't talk about him, because I can't think of anything nice to say, and I can't believe Alexis ever went out with him, because he's not good enough for her, which I realize more and more each day."

"I'm sure you don't want your Alexis in that house with that family," Quinn said. "By all means, discourage all romances between Alexis and any Quartermaine."

"OK, I'm glad to have your approval, Quinn. Don't look like I'm kidding! And she does deserve somebody who wants her to be happy, not to be insulted all day and have to fight off interference from the in-laws and hear their cutting remarks."

"What about Jerry?"

"Jerry? The owner of the Outback?"

"Yeah. Does he make a fuss over everybody or just Alexis?"

"I don't think he makes anything near the fuss that he makes when Alexis is with you."

"A-ha!"

"It's a thought. Does she go there more than she goes to other restaurants? I think so. Well, but not so that I noticed it. I'll pay more attention. I know. Let's go to the Outback, just you and I. We'll pay attention to that especially. Then go there with Alexis as soon as possible afterward, pay the same attention, and then compare."

"OK. I want to find out if he's good enough for her, too, though. It might take some investigating. I went out on a date with his brother once. He was OK, on the surface, at least."

"Investigate, right up your alley. Did he mention Jerry?"

"I think he did! But it was more things Jerry and he used to do, which all sounded mischievous."

"At least they were only mischievous, rather than criminal."

"So, OK. Jerry is not a deviant," she smiled sideways, mischievously.

"I'm glad that's settled," Zander said.

"Their accent makes them sound mischievous, no matter what they are saying," Quinn said. "I feel Australia must be a rather light-hearted place."

"I wonder if they have their green cards," Zander said.

"If they do, the government is going to get complaints from me," Quinn said. "If they won't give your grandparents theirs so they can come and see you, then they better not have given them to those two!"

Alexis and Sergei were standing on the dock. "Those cranes belong to ELQ, a local company, and those cranes to the Barrington Corporation. That dock belongs mostly to local organized crime, but it's called Corinthos' Coffee Company – the warehouse farthest over. That's where Zander got shot, in fact."

"How do they get away with smuggling over there?" Sergei asked.

"It must be they own some dirty federal agent. They must be checking things in, but not everything. At least some coffee goes into that place. But not enough to account for their being able to keep it up – make money on it."

"I was curious, and looked up stuff about that company, because they are around here so much," Sergei said. "They don't look so good, without Jax Enterprise, they'd be in a mess."

"He owns some shares, true, and he's probably doing a lot to keep them in shape, but he could do more if they didn't have their main vulnerability, which is, this same mob guy, Corinthos, owning a block of shares."

"They can't get rid of him?"

"They haven't tried. No one's ever thought of it, even!"

"In a town this size, maybe you could. I've seen the Russians get pushed out of whole sections of Daytona. The mob that is. They're the worst mob to deal with. If they can be pushed out, then these guys can."

"Oh, man," Alexis said. "That is a tempting thought. What might work better, is to push on ELQ. This mobster's so-called legal presence on their board gets him in on other things." 

"How bad is mob enforcement? The goon squad?"

"The goon department? Not too bad. Slack. They get some money from Luke and from Kelly's probably. Almost voluntary, is my guess. The rest of the places down here probably pay them. They might be weak. Taking it for granted. Putting a hit on a civilian like AJ Quartermaine can lose them respect in their own circle. They'll try to make it seem like it wasn't a hit, just the wife's project. Still, a mobster without control of his wife isn't a good thing either. On the other hand, maybe he'll want to look like the one who planned it."

"Ha ha," Sergei said, "Let's see. Who own the crane next to the EQ one?"

"Barrington Corporation," she answered. "Let's go to my office; I know who owns a lot of that."


	86. Chapter 86

**Part 86**

V. Ardanowski wandered through the campus art exhibit at Port Charles University. Art was her hobby. It contrasted well with police detective work. The kind of thing where you could let your mind relax, and be creative – a real change from grinding investigative work.

One of the paintings had a model that looked familiar. V. looked a little closer.

"That's mine," one of the students was standing behind her.

"_Girl Racer_," V. looked up at the student, reading the title from the bottom. "Nice work. So you're E. Webber?"

"Elizabeth. Yes. You're Detective Ardanowski, the one who did _Lake at Midnight_ which was in the show Jasper Jax did last year."

"Why yes. I'm amazed you remember!"

"I think it's a beautiful painting. I remember you were a police officer, too, that was on your little write-up there. It's an unusual combination. It helps people remember you. Have you had any other work in exhibits since then?"

"Not since that. I'm working on a couple of paintings, though. With the winter snow and storms, there's more time. It's harder to commit crimes in bad weather."

"So there's something good about bad weather."

"Come by and see them sometime. I'll give you my number."

"Thanks, and I'll give you mine. I have a little studio over nearer the docks."

"Great. You know, I recognize your girl driver. The nurse on Smith's case."

"Quinn. I wound up in ICU after a car accident, and she was the nurse on my case, too. I learned she drives race cars from her godfather, who is a hospital volunteer. Another unusual combination of profession and hobby."

"That's cool! I like that! So it's not just a pose?"

"Nope. She races that car. Locally."

"I think you manage to convey her spirit – strong and gentle at once."

"Yes. I was thinking too, of wild and responsible at once. If that makes any sense. Wild side, co-existing with a serious side."

"Yeah. I see that. And your colors here are wonderfully balanced. The dark background, and the lighter car, and her outfit – really bounce off of each other in an interesting way."

"I really liked painting that one," Elizabeth said. 

Amanda came to Kathleen's classroom at Port Charles Middle School. School had just let out.

"I'm glad Oksana delegates this to you," Amanda said. "I think you can understand it all best."

"Have a seat," Kathleen said, "or maybe –"

"It's OK," Amanda laughed. She sat down at the nearest first row desk.

"How is it going?" Kathleen asked.

"Quite well," Amanda answered. "Zander can do more than I thought he would. I thought four years since he was last in school was enough time for him to forget a whole lot. But he says things come back to him when he starts looking at it. Which is true. He's intelligent. In a way people don't pick up on. They think he's not."

"I thought so," Kathleen said. "Somehow I knew it."

"The GED test parts," Amanda said, "there are five. You have Math – he can do the basics, and breezes through the units I did regarding algebra. Statistics is a little more hairy – he doesn't like that at all! I've got him setting up some of his own, so that's helping a lot. You've got science – the Russian schools must be great on that. He breezes right through that."

"Good for the attention deficit that it doesn't take long to understand."

"Yes. It gets less in the way. English grammar he knows almost by instinct. He at least has been reading these last four years, and knows the rules internally, and only needs to be more aware of the terminology for them. All coming back. Literature, he can easily handle the general questions. Then you've got Social Studies – in geography, he is much better than American students generally, and he can pass that. The rest is a little slow. American history. He is interested in that though, so he's picking it up. It's more effective when you tell him to research it and let him tell you about it."

"Sounds like he can pass the test when he's had enough time to review what he already knows and learn the balance."

"The test is given every month. I think he can take it in March at the earliest. By May or June, I am sure. I'm about positive he can pass it."

"Good. Any help I can give you, just let me know."

"If you get a chance to talk about American history. Maybe just talk about it."

"Great. I'll tell Oksana we're doing fine."

"OK. If she would OK the expense, I, or you, could take him on a trip. At least one, for an experiment. I have this theory, that if he sees something, he'll learn more. For example, take him to a battlefield. Maybe Gettysburg."

"I like that. I'll talk to her."

"Did you see in the Port Charles Herald how the defense lawyer is bringing up the insanity defense in the Corinthos attempted murder case?" Paul asked Gail Baldwin. The two of them were at lunch at the Port Charles Grill, between appointments. "She planned to shoot her ex-husband. Maybe she'll get off with attempted manslaughter, as can happen in domestic relations cases."

"I haven't seen any facts that would justify that," Gail said. "It wasn't as if he was with another woman! Has she ever alleged that he abused her? From all I can see, he was trying to get custody of their son. Has she ever alleged he abused her son?"

"I don't know, but it wouldn't be a surprise if she has alleged all of that," Paul said, wryly.

Gail laughed. "You're probably right."

"Poor kid. He will end up with a severe case of parental alienation. She could get out of jail someday and be a major pain in the boy's psyche," Paul observed. "An extreme case. I have two patients now in divorces. They say they do what they do for the kids. But I don't know."

"Parental alienation," Gail said, thinking, "Isn't that where the child hears so many bad things about the non-custodial parent, that they express dislike for them?"

"Yes, where the custodial parent tries to get them on their side," Paul answered. "Even if unintentionally. Leans on the child too much, added to all the guilt the child might feel as a result. You've read about all that, I'm sure."

"How the child can feel like they've caused the divorce? Yes, I've run across that. They can even end up feeling responsible for the parent's extreme acts, like custodial kidnappings. I have a case with that."

"Smith, probably."

"Now how did you know that? Are you psychic?"

Paul laughed. "No, just that my ex-girlfriend was the nurse on his case and she was always trying to help him. And so I know he was kidnapped and taken abroad by the noncustodial parent."

"Well, it's child abuse," Gail said. "Maybe that sounds like an exaggeration, but it messes with the child's ability to trust anyone as much as any other kind of child abuse. The upheaval and instability – they get a perspective on life that is 'one-day-at-a-time.' And they do feel guilty. I see that in the Smith case. Just as you expect. The kidnapping occurs, and then the child feels like they abandoned the other parent, and feel guilty about not being able to find that parent, while at the same time, they end up wondering if that parent really cares about them, because that parent doesn't find them. "

"So it was the Dad that did it?"

"Yes, but then I've had some thought about how the mother initially left the father. She took them off when he wasn't home, and left no way for him to find them. It took the father a long time to find them, even though they hadn't gone far. She changed their school. It was a minor rehearsal for the reverse. She is a tough one. One of those people you'd normally never see, because they think they are fine."

"Does the cultural difference matter?" Paul asked.

"Interesting question," Gail said. "Sometimes I think all the diagnoses apply only to Americans, you know? Silly. There is an effect, though. I don't know what it is. She in amazingly self-reliant, which doesn't fit in with the stereotype for people raised in Communist countries."

"Politics," Paul said, with an air of disgust. "People are always trying to use whatever they can for their agenda."

"It must not be that simple, is all," Gail said. "The thing about her is that she is very smart. Give her a suggestion, and she picks right up on it. She does start taking things into account, if you tell her about it. She will see the value of it. There, you actually have this cooperation that doesn't happen with people as easily when they think or know there is something wrong with them. She's into a thing, for example, I thought she was competing with Dad, you know, she's arguing with Zander about whether he treated Dad equally. I pointed out to her she was competing with her ex. She quit doing it."

"So she didn't argue with you," Paul said. "Nice to be listened to, for once!"

"Very," Gail laughed.

"Sounds like she could use a shrink to follow her around," Paul said. "Tell her when she's doing something dumb."

"She is too self-reliant for that! Somehow she managed to raise Zander to be self-reliant also. Too much. To the point where he tries things way before he could be ready. You have to pull him back. I could say he missed his adolescence. He is almost like the oldest son of a 19th century family, where the father died."

"Premature man of the house."

"Yes. Worries about his younger brother as if he is more of a parent than an older brother. He has all the abandonment symptoms too. They get that when they wonder why the other parent doesn't find them. Then they get returned to the parent and feel like they are with a stranger. Confusing. His mother had him helping her out to get him out of the country his father had taken him to! And you can tell he felt guilty about the whole thing – for leaving Dad, and for not having been with Mom. "

"No way out. Consistent with the literature on runaways. Overwhelming psychological pain and upheaval brings it about. Add being so self-reliant, as you describe, and it is almost dangerous."

"Yet he's a nice kid. He's less dangerous than he used to be!"

"That's because he has a good shrink."

"Well, thank you! Trying to get points with me, are you? See if I'll cover you on some weekend?"

"Aww, of course you will. As I will in my turn."

The hostess on duty at the Outback brought Zander and Quinn to a table. Soon Jerry Jax was right there.

"Hello, how are you this fine evening? Let me move you to a better table," he said.

"No, this is fine," Quinn said.

"Yes, it's fine," Zander echoed.

"All right, if you like the view from here! What can I get you? Chardonnay, for you. Iced tea for you," he said. They both nodded.

"I'll be right back," Jerry said, going off.

"OK," Quinn said. "Every customer does not get this treatment. We get it only because of your relationship to Alexis."

"What a good memory he has," Zander said. 

"I've ordered that same thing a few times," Quinn said. "Still, he can't be remembering that for everybody."

Jerry brought the drinks himself. "There you are," he said, setting the iced tea down in front of Zander and the glass of wine in front of Quinn.

When he was gone, Zander said, "Oh, there is something wrong with the view."

Quinn laughed. "And that is?"

"Dr. Dumbo, Elizabeth, and some other people."

Quinn turned quickly. "His parents and his sister! I wonder how she will fare with them!"

"You fared fine, I am sure. Do you think she'll do worse? She almost has to. They must have liked you. Therefore, they probably don't like her."

"You've got a better view!"

"OK. I see the backs of the parents, I guess. I can get a profile of the sister. I don't think she is terribly enchanted."

"How does Elizabeth look?"

"Placid. Handling it. Doctor looks like his usual self. Friendly, confident and happy. Upbeat like he is. Sure the folks are going to come around someday. Self satisfied."

"Not a surprise, really."

Jerry came over with the waiter. "This is Mark," he said, "and these are two good friends of mine. Take very good care of them."

Later, when they were eating, Jerry came by himself, instead of the waiter, to ask if everything was all right. The waiter brought them another drink without their asking. Then Jerry brought them a dessert and insisted they take it.

"OK," Quinn said, as soon as he was gone, and taking a piece of chocolate strawberry whatever-it-was with her fork – "This is definitely more owner attention than anybody else gets. Decidedly."

"You may like to hear this: Jerry has not been over there to Paul and company once."

"I like to hear that very much!"

Back in the car, Quinn asked, laughing, "Shall I take notes?"

He turned on the lights. "There's my school stuff here somewhere."

He found a legal pad in the back seat. She wrote: tried to change table, introduced us to waiter, brought drinks himself, had waiter bring drinks."

"Remembered drinks."

"Yes. Came back and checked, instead of the waiter."

"Said we were his two good friends."

Quinn laughed. "And finally: brought us a chocolate strawberry something-or-other."

She put the pad in the back.

"Is this a school book?" she asked, picking up a book.

"Yes. It's American history. What I did not learn in high school."

"Did you learn anything in high school? I mean, at Port Charles High."

"No!"

"Not even by osmosis?"

"No."

"How did you get there? I mean, here? From Florida, to here?"

"Moving along. So as not to get caught."

"How did you get into drug dealing, anyway?"

"Well, Nurse Question, when you are out there like that, you drift right in. To work for real, they always want papers, because you are a minor."

"You know, I never had a job until I was over 18. I'm such an innocent."

"Well," he said. "You parents would have signed for you. But when you can't, or as I choose to be, made it impossible, it is easy to justify. You start as a courier. All you have to do is take the stuff with you from point A to point B on the train or a bus. You get a lot of money for what is relatively easy. No taxes and no papers or permits."

"But there's the danger, not just of getting caught. The people you are working for – aren't they potentially violent?"

"They could be. That's why you have to get them the money."

"Did you have to be a courier for the money, too?"

"Yes. They tested you for trust with smaller amounts at first."

"How do you start? I mean, you don't fill out a job application."

"They come up to you. They're always looking for somebody. They are streetwise and have you figured out before they talk to you."

"What if you lost the money, or the drugs?"

"You could end up very dead."

"How did you not get scared enough to go back?"

"I always thought I was one step away from getting out of it all. I would get fake papers somehow. I would turn 18."

"When you were 18, you didn't quit for a real job."

"By then I did not care. There was way more money in it. I needed it, to put Pete through school. Remember? My parents could swoop down on me if I used my real name to prove I was 18. And I was always about to fix things. Something would happen. Nobody forces people to use drugs. See how easy come up with excuses?"

"It was a good thing you got caught."

"I thought so after awhile. It was very positive in the long term. Alexis helped me more than I ever dreamed anyone would. Emily really did help me. Things were looking up. I thought getting that job with Sonny was the greatest thing. I didn't make as much, but I didn't have as many problems. And I never dreamed things could be as well as now. That I would actually have parents again or be in school, or getting a degree."

"In the long run, it's a good thing you got shot! As long as you recovered, it was a positively good thing!"

"Yes. I will always be glad I ended up in the ICU."

She smiled. "Let's go. I've grilled you enough for now."

Quinn was at the counter at Kelly's getting a coffee to go. Lucky Spencer was there doing the same, though he was behind the counter, since his father and aunt owned the place. It appeared Quinn was getting insider privileges here, too, as Lucky poured her a cup of coffee and gave it to her himself.

Elizabeth then came in on the same errand. Lucky scowled when he saw her, but poured her a cup likewise.

"I saw you at the Outback the other night," Elizabeth said. "You were having a good time."

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Quinn answered. "But you? How does the family like you?"

Elizabeth smiled her Mona Lisa smile. "They are distrustful," she answered. "I have overheard Patty using the words 'even younger' to Mrs. Whitman."

"He should read his psych books to find out why he wants to get married but dates women too young," Quinn said.

"Maybe," Elizabeth said, unruffled. "But you really do look happier. Aren't you the tiniest bit glad? Relieved from his burdensome proposal. Maybe even grateful?"

Lucky scoffed. "Oh please, Elizabeth! Grateful to you for stealing Dr. Witless? So she's spending time with _Zander_? This is supposed to be an _improvement_?"

"That is so boring, Lucky," Elizabeth answered. "So old hat. Passe. You don't even know what you're talking about any more. Knee-jerk reaction. Zander equals bad. Does this make you feel better about yourself? Some sort of displacement of your own evil onto another man?"

"Don't use your amateur second hand psychiatry on me," Lucky said. "Zander never changes. He was incredibly rude to Emily and wrecked her Christmas vacation."

Quinn was unfortunately taking a sip of coffee, and choked on it. She swallowed hard, and then giggled, and then laughed.

"All right, all right," Lucky amended. "He put a damper on some small part of it."

Quinn laughed a little more. "That's better," she said.

"You have been warned, Quinn!" Lucky said, smiling a little, though.

"She looks happy to me," Elizabeth said.

"You know me so well!" Quinn said back.

"Maybe," Elizabeth said. "How much does one have to think about in a hospital, anyhow? And people talk about their goddaughters when they are proud of them. Anyway, see you later."

She left, leaving Quinn to look after her, mouth agape.


	87. Chapter 87

**Part 87**

Quinn found the right hallway of the courthouse, and saw Zander standing there.

He wore a suit and tie. Not used to this, Quinn stopped for a minute.

"Wow!" she said, her face flushed.

"What?" he said.

"Well, you look amazing! Really! I've never seen you all dressed up like this!"

"I'll do it more often if it's going to have this effect."

She looked into the little window in the door.

"Can't you go in?" she asked.

"No, the witnesses have to stay outside so they don't hear each other. You can go in, though. Maybe you'll hear about some interesting ballistics."

She went over to him and put her arms around his neck. "You think I'm here for this _trial_?"

He leaned his head down to touch hers and put his arms around her. "Yep. I know you are fascinated by these forensic cases. Some cop could be in there explaining the exact nature of the bullets, and how far they must have come from the grassy knoll."

Quinn giggled. She fingered his tie.

She turned when she heard some noise. AJ was coming up the hall with V. Ardanowski.

"V.," she said in greeting, and "A.J."

V. grinned.

"Are there any other letters here?" Quinn asked.

"There's Q.," Zander said, arms still encircling her waist.

"And Z., so we have A to Z," Quinn answered, smiling up at him.

Dara Jenson's assistant came out. "Mr. Quartermaine," she said, "it's your turn."

AJ went in.

V. stayed out in the hallway.

"I saw Elizabeth Webber's painting of you," V. said. "She had it up at a student art exhibit. I go to those when I get a chance. I am a bit of an artist myself."

"An artist and a cop?" Quinn asked. "How interesting."

"As much as a nurse and a racer."

"Are you a witness?" Quinn asked V.

"Yes," V. said. "To some of the investigation and evidence collection. We found the gun in a search of Carly's office. We got a warrant to search her home and work when AJ gave us the statement that she had called him and told him to pick up the child at the warehouse instead of the day care. Then the day care worker gave us a statement that Carly had picked Michael up from day care earlier."

"So she left the gun she did the shooting with in her own office. Maybe she _should_ plead insanity," Quinn said.

"Like most criminals, all she really has a case for is stupidity," V. answered. "There's something stupid about somebody who thinks committing a particular crime will solve their problems. That spills over into the way they carry it out."

"What if she had thrown the gun in the lake?" Quinn asked. "Then it could have been impossible to convict her."

"Yeah, sometimes I think there is a subconscious desire to be caught," V. said. "Or, she did not get a good chance to go and throw it in the lake in time. Or had some plan to frame somebody else that she could not carry out in time. Who knows? But I always have faith we will find something eventually, when it comes to solving a crime. You have to keep at it sometimes. But the perpetrator leaves something or takes something."

Now Dara Jenson's assistant came out and told Zander it was his turn.

"Good luck," V. said, as Zander and Quinn followed the assistant into the courtroom. 

Quinn saw Alexis and took the chair next to her. Both watched Zander as he was called up and then sworn to tell the truth.

Dara Jenson asked him a series of questions. Zander told of how he was at work, and that he had gone into the storeroom for something. He didn't recall what. He saw that Sonny and AJ were in there. He had never known AJ to be there before, and he had nothing to do with AJ being that that evening. They were arguing about Michael, AJ's son, who was Sonny's stepson. The conversation sounded unpleasant. There wasn't anything strange about that. Zander had left the storeroom and went back to his desk.

Dara had Zander's work records; about what he had entered into the computer, and when. They showed that he had been gone for around 2 minutes, which must have been the time during which Zander was in the storeroom, and that upon return, he had worked again up to 3 minutes when he stopped, consistent with Sonny coming along and telling him to lock the storeroom and go home. He had logged off at that point.

Then he had gone and locked the storeroom door. He didn't hear or see AJ, and he didn't know it was possible to lock someone in; he thought he was locking people out. He left the building, and as soon as he stepped outside and away from it, he heard and felt the shots. He could remember nothing after that until he awoke in the hospital ICU.

The attorney for the defendant got up. Quinn stared at Carly from time to time. All she could see was her expensive suit; a black one, and her blonde hair, which she had up in a bun. She looked like one of the last people on earth to carry out a shooting.

The attorney asked Zander how long he had known AJ.

"About a year, maybe less."

"How did you know him?"

"He was my former girlfriend's brother."

"Did you know Mrs. Corinthos?"

"Not that well."

"Did you know they had a son?"

"Yes, I'd heard about him and about how they fought about AJ having custody or visitation. But only second hand."

"Through your girlfriend?"

"Yes."

"This was Emily Quartermaine?"

"Yes."

"So you know there was bad blood between Mr. Corinthos and Mr. Quartermaine?"

"I guess you could say that."

"What were Mr. Corinthos and Mr. Quartermaine saying when you heard them in the storeroom just before the shooting?"

"The same old stuff. I wasn't paying a lot of attention. I was looking for something having to do with my job."

"You had heard them arguing before?"

"Not those two specifically. I had just heard the arguments before."

"What were they saying?"

"I don't remember exactly. AJ was saying something about how Michael - the son – was his son. Saying he is my son, not yours. Sonny saying he was Carly's son and Carly had custody and would get custody, stronger custody, I forget the words. That AJ should give up. That AJ was never going to see his son again, and – "

"And?"

Zander couldn't go on for a minute. He struggled for control.

Quinn felt a lump in her throat. She was aware only of him and of Alexis shifting in the next seat, and draping her arm around Quinn's chair.

Quinn wanted to run up to him.

"Well, Mr. Smith? Did you hear anything else?"

Zander swallowed hard. "He was saying he was going to adopt AJ's son. The usual insults. Calling AJ a drunk."

"And then, 3 minutes later, Mr. Corinthos told you to lock the door."

"Yes."

"Did you check to see if anyone was in there?"

"No."

"Were you supposed to?"

"Not particularly. No one should have been in there."

"This wasn't normally your job, was it?"

"Sometimes."

"How often did you do it?"

"Every once in awhile."

"Only if Mr. Corinthos told you to?"

"No."

"Only if someone told you to?"

"Yes."

"You didn't think that Mr. Quartermaine could still be in there?"

"No."

"Even though you'd seen him in there a few minutes before?"

"No."

"You hadn't seen him come out, had you?"

"No."

"You did not see the shooter, true?"

"True."

"So you could not say whether or not it was Mrs. Corinthos or not?"

"No."

Dara asked him if he had any reason to know whether AJ had come out of the storeroom before he locked it.

"No. I was paying attention to something else. I still don't understand why AJ would stay in there when Sonny had left. There was no one left to argue with and nothing for AJ to do in that room."

"There's testimony he stood where he was to call someone else. Did you hear him on the phone?"

"No, of course not. Maybe he was listening at that point."

"Did you look into and around the room when locking the door?"

"No, I looked only at the door, pulling it closed. Then I locked it."

Both lawyers said the had no more questions. The judge told Zander he could step down.

Both Quinn and Alexis got up to follow him out of the courtroom, almost colliding with the assistant, who was going out to call V. Ardanowski to the stand.

Zander grinned at Quinn a little. "You're going to miss her search and seizure facts."

"I'm more concerned if you're all right."

The assistant came back out and asked Zander to stay on call unless they needed him to testify again on rebuttal. She estimated it as not likely, but possible. Zander nodded. "You have my cell number."

"How long was that?" Zander asked.

"Only about 10 minutes," Alexis said.

"It always feels so much longer when you're on a witness stand," Zander said. 

In Alexis' penthouse, Alexis and Quinn were in the living room; Zander had gone upstairs to change clothes. Alexis said she wanted to take them out to dinner, and insisted he would relax more if he got out of the suit. "He only wears it to court," Alexis grinned. "So it can only remind him of that."

"He looks really sharp dressed like that," Quinn said.

"You bet," Alexis smiled, "I think he heard on his own account those words about not seeing your son again, do you? One of his parents could have said it where he overheard it."

"It could be. Even the parallel alone could be upsetting. He knows that is what it was all about. One parent trying to cut out the other."

"He still suppresses a lot. Not that I blame him. He's trying to get along with them both, and isn't up to really confronting them about what they did."

"And we know Oksana resists that as being part of the past. It's a good thing you have them going to Dr. Baldwin, Alexis."

"I'm glad of that too. Maybe it is in the past, but it has to come out. I'm sure there's some psychiatric doctrine that says that."

"Yes. They are making progress," Quinn said, "but I see now it is a way longer and more complicated road than I first imagined."

Once they got to the Outback, it was impossible for Zander's spirits to stay down. After the hostess seated them, Jerry was right there wanting to move them, and in fact, insisted on moving them.

He remembered all drinks, including Alexis' ice water with lime. But he came back with it and another drink, which was a vodka, which he insisted Alexis should drink. Apparently experienced with him, Alexis did not decline it. So it sat there.

"You know you like lobster," he said to Alexis. "We have some imported from Australia that you've got to have. On the house."

Quinn and Zander sat on the same side, across from Alexis. They exchanged glances.

They hardly saw a waiter, except one who came with the lobster under Jerry's supervision.

Later, he brought them a flaming desert. Alexis exclaimed over this and thanked Jerry.

Later, Zander walked Quinn to her car. "I'm not sure we got anywhere on this investigation," he said. "We probably already knew he would do even more if we had Alexis herself. But then, he would have to do yet more if he really liked her. Ask her out or something like that."

"Or something like that."

"Maybe she refers other customers? It's more of a business approach?"

"Maybe she does legal work for him and he pays her this way."

"There could be something we don't know. I love her, but can't believe her mere presence is going to bring in that much business to the restaurant.'

"Maybe he is afraid she does not reciprocate," Quinn said.

"Maybe. Do you think he gets positive vibes? Then there's always coming out and asking her if she likes him."

"That would be too easy!" Quinn laughed.

"There's a sneakier way of asking her if she thinks _he_ likes _her_. Does she notice him, do you think?"

"They're both really busy, and that could be why she doesn't notice. He knows though; he knows she'll come in to the Outback, eventually. He can't be that excited about a particular customer, unless he really has a thing for her, that's my estimate, anyway. Can we get them trapped in an elevator together?"

Zander smiled, and pulled her close, by her open car door.

"You're a good matchmaker," he said.

"I have a partner," she answered. "We could go into the business. Dating service for busy professionals. I have Paul and Elizabeth to my credit."

He leaned down to kiss her. They stood there for a little while, kissing.

"Thank you for coming to that trial," he said, leaning his head against hers. "It was not much fun for you."

She pushed his head back and ran her fingers along his jaw, then pushed some hair out of his forehead.

"Oh, I get it," she said. "No, don't say that. You're a lot of fun, what with your New Year's traditions and ice skating. And you're a great dancer. And a sense of humor, too. And the court wasn't too bad. If I helped, I am glad. What with the way you look in a suit and all that, it was even fun. You can talk to me about the effects of your parents' custody dispute any time. And anyway, nobody's fun all the time. _I'm_ not fun all the time. Remember cheering me up in regard to Dr. Witless?"

He smiled a little bit, and then kissed her again.

"You're the best kisser, too."

He looked at her like he didn't believe her and thought she was only saying it to be kind, but he didn't argue.

Then he shut her into her car, and watched her drive off.

Quinn was in the hospital cafeteria on a lunch break. She was alone. Suddenly she looked up to see Paul sitting down across from her with his lunch.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" he asked.

"No at all," she answered. "I love hearing about how lucky I am to be rid of you, and how happy I must be."

"OK," he said. "You are so lucky to be rid of me, and you must be very happy."

"I am."

"Good. You'll stay that way, if you reassure Smith a whole lot. Make a point of it."

"_You_ advising me?"

"This is professional, but it's to help you. I was talking to a colleague about that type of case in general. The children in custody battles, who become the subjects of non-custodial parent kidnapping end up with a loss of trust. They don't have faith in continuance of anything, because their lives were subjected to 180 degree turns without warning. This from the people who are supposed to love them and provide them stability. They end up with this loss of trust that may abate over time. But it doesn't go away."

Quinn barely heard him; she was so amazed that he had the nerve. "It won't if everyone rejects him because of it!" she snapped.

"I'm not saying that. I'm really not. I'm not saying give up. It is more a matter of realizing where he is coming from sooner rather than later, and after you may have unintentionally said or done what he sees as rejection. He thinks you'll disappear when you really get to know him. That's why it is likely that it is hard to do. Nothing personal against you. That's what happens when the people who are supposed to provide your childhood stability betray that. You have to give an inordinate amount of reassurance."

"Why is it inordinate then, after what has happened to him?" drawn into the discussion in spite of her anger at him.

"You might eventually find it a heavy demand placed on you. Having to reassure him that you're not going to disappear, or disapprove of something he's done and disappear because of that. See his past experience is - not to say it is rational – but we all have these subconscious ideas. His is that he's going to cause his own loss of his loved ones. So the criticism of what he does that normally can come up can be too much for him sooner than for you. But you may get perception of rejection easily. There's this built in idea you're going to go away; can't be trusted to stay."

Quinn was silent a moment, then more inclined to listen, remembering Zander's saying that he thought Emily's attachment to him felt conditional.

"I get that," she answered. "I've already heard it. The prior girlfriend did 180s on him, and he said something to the effect that he always thought she was about to slip away the next time he made a mistake or someone else talked her out of being with him. And the other night, he said something that really bothered me. Like he realized I too was more interested in his problems than in him, and at the same time the problems meant he wasn't any fun. I said something reassuring, and thought that took care of it, but from what you are saying, I can't assume that yet?"

"To you it would be enough. In the reverse. You are better off knowing this. You could lose patience with him, or think he's rejecting you. This way you can weigh that in before you jump to any misunderstandings. You could think you give him a normal amount of reassurance, what else does he need? In his case, maybe a lot more."

"Yeah, yeah. How do I know you are giving me good advice? You want to feel less guilty? You want to gloat, so you talk about how my new guy is a psychiatric basket case of some kind while you have this lovely perfect woman? Does it make you feel better?"

"I don't say he's any such thing. Heck, he does fairly well, when you look at his history. You and I grew up in stable families, Quinn. Zander and Elizabeth didn't. Get Elizabeth to tell you. Some stuff about her family is unstable, too."

Quinn looked a little bit suspicious, but said nothing else, only a subdued, "Thanks." She excused herself and said she had to get back to work.

Quinn was at her desk, looking at her pictures. They were part of the background, and she was usually so busy thinking of other things when she was there, that she did not notice them specifically. But today she had a moment in which she noticed the picture of herself with Paul, her hair flying in the wind, by her car. The one Zander thought made her look really different from the nurse he saw every day at the hospital, when she'd shown it to him when he was still a patient.

She took it down. She was about to rip it up, but thought better of that. She thought about tossing it into the trash. She tossed it in; then fished it back out again.

"It's a really good picture of you," AJ's voice said, behind her.

She jumped. The where and why of when he showed up was absolutely unpredictable.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I scared you."

"It's all right," Quinn said.

"Why don't you cut the picture in half?" he suggested, eyes twinkling devilishly. "Keep you, and throw him away."

"Not a bad idea," she muttered.

"That's better than a picture of you and Zander," he answered. "Don't get yourself in deep enough to end up with one of those, OK?"

"Why - did you sister's prom picture turn your home into a haunted house?"

"She doesn't have one - he never took her," AJ answered. "Can you imagine not having a prom picture for the rest of your life?"

"They could have had it taken!"

"Well, it's not the same."

"Maybe. Maybe you should know that Zander can understood you better than you think - he probably has some compassion for you, even. He had custody problems himself."

"He has a child the mother doesn't want him to see?" AJ asked.

"No, he was the child, and his parents never settled the custody issue. He was in your son's place. Maybe you can learn something from that."

"Really?" AJ asked, "What happened?'

"His mother left his father, and took Zander and Peter. They didn't see their father for a time. Then they had every other weekend visitations but arguments surrounding it. The father didn't return them or the mother didn't have them ready to go. Cops coming to the door to settle the dispute. The father taking them to Russia where he was from, and not returning them, so they lived there a couple of years and didn't see their mother. Then the father ending up in jail for violating the custody order."

"Wow," AJ said. "I never knew any of that. They were here, that day - they aren't married?"

"They haven't been in years. But they are finally getting along to the point where they were going out with Peter. She has custody and he had a restraining order, so visitation with his father is really iffy."

"If Carly gets convicted, it won't be a problem," AJ said. "But if she doesn't, or she ever gets out - " He trailed off, and looked as if he was thinking of the horrible possibilities.

"It will be a problem no matter what," Quinn said. "I dated a shrink long enough to know that. It's his _mother_ - you can't cancel his mother, no matter what happens to her."

"Maybe that's true," AJ answered. "Well, thanks Nurse Connor. That makes Zander look different. I'm not used to thinking of him as in any vulnerable situation, you know? He always came across as self assured, and plowing ahead with all this certainty without thinking. You're mature and you can handle him better, but still, he's no picnic. Watch yourself."

"I've heard that warning before and I'll hear it again," Quinn answered.

"I hope you don't end up sorry he was the patient rather than me," he said with his best flirtatious smile. "Later."

Quinn still had the photo in her hand. She grabbed a pair of scissors from the drawer, cut it in half, put herself back; thought about tossing Paul, then decided instead to see if he wanted it.

There was a call from one of the patients, so she put it away and got up to attend to it.


	88. Chapter 88

**Part 88**

Oksana saw both of her sons in the school room. She smiled. Both sat at the table, with school books open. They were talking. She listened a minute. It seemed Zander was explaining something to Peter.

She went in. "This is nice of you," she said to Zander. "But Sander, you work on your own studies; you are not spending too much time on Peter."

"It's the same stuff," Zander answered. "I'm trying to pass a high school test. High school level. And Pete does not have good grades. Do you even read his report card? Look at this!"

"These are what he usually gets," Oksana said, picking up the report card. "He and I talk about it. He needs to spend more time studying, less time playing. He is not to lean on you."

"I told Sandy that," Peter said. "But he says he learns it explaining to me. And when he explains things, they do make a lot more sense. Algebra has always been a mystery to me. Does it have any particular use? Because if it doesn't, I don't know why anybody bothers their heads with it."

"It is fundamental knowledge," Oksana told Peter. "You do not need a use for it today. But to make progress in the future, you do. Do you think anybody could build a bridge or a house, or engineer anything, without that kind of knowledge? It is not something you learn overnight. It takes years."

"OK. I always wanted to build a bring over the Atlantic," Peter answered. "This is why Sander is helping me."

"What do you want to do, Pete?" Zander asked. "Do you have any idea yet?"

"No, I suppose not. I figure I have all college and the rest of high school to figure that out."

"Not all college," Oksana said. "They want you to pick a major. I know that. In college, you decide something. But what have you ever thought about being when you grow up?"

"Nobody asks that when you're more than eight!" Pete laughed. "I guess I still want to be an astronaut. That was my last answer, when I was eight."

"What about sports?" Oksana asked. "You can coach sports, like your father did, I think. Then you need a degree for physical education."

"Or maybe I'll play pro soccer," Pete said. "Or race cars."

"Think of something more practical for a back up," Oksana suggested. "But you, Sander, are closer to that decision."

"Not really. I'm still working on high school."

"If you take this test this year, as Amanda says you can, and if you pass, then you are there. But maybe you do better to wait to think about all that. Think about passing the test only. Leave Peter to be."

"I don't see what harm it is to help him out here and there. I would have anyway. Whose older brother wouldn't?"

"Well then, not too much time, though. You help too much."

Peter laughed. "Yeah, quit being so helpful, Sander! But I'm sure you're going to pass. You know this material."

Gail asked Oksana, "It is a good thing you and your ex-husband successfully took Peter out. Do you think that you could do the same thing for Zander?"

Oksana answered: "I think so."

"I think Peter should be there, too," Zander said.

"Why is that?" Gail asked.

"He keeps them from bringing up the kinds of things that lead to a fight," Zander said. "Or, maybe, it is me he can keep from doing that."

"What will bring up a fight?"

"Almost anything. I don't know how, but it does."

"Between them, you mean, or between you and them?"

"Between them," he said. "If I bring anything up about whatever I am doing right now, it feeds right into a conflict of theirs. I can't imagine them talking about what they are doing now. So I don't know if it would cause them to argue."

"I still say you should try it," Gail said. "I think things have changed. Try making it very simple. Go to Kelly's for a cup of coffee. Fifteen minutes only. See if that works, then work your way up to lunch. Are you willing to try it?"

"Can I bring a friend of mine? That might keep them from fighting."

"We can do that without fighting," Oksana protested.

"What friend?" Gail asked. "Another person your age is not likely to be helpful."

"Alexis, or Joe. Both of them are older."

Oksana said, "Fine with me."

"No," Gail said. "It defeats the point. Ten minutes. If one parents bugs the other, they can save it for later; call each other and argue later. If they managed it for Peter, they can manage it for you. It ought to help you to see that they can do that. All right?"

Zander agreed, reluctantly, but he agreed.

"Did you see this?" Edward Quartermaine came into the family breakfast one morning, brandishing a newspaper. The trial verdict came back. Carly was found not guilty by reason of insanity. "I wonder how many jurors that criminal Corinthos bribed," he added, in high dudgeon.

AJ was nervous. "She'll be in Ferncliff, but for how long?" he wondered. "Then when she gets out, she'll even threaten to get custody, that's how crazy she is. They'll start in on that intimidation thing – they have control of the legal system, or so they are always claiming."

"They don't, or she'd have gotten off somehow," Alan said equably.

"I'll have to be really careful when she gets out," AJ said.

"That could be years," Monica said, reassuringly, "and hopefully will be."

Later there was a board meeting for ELQ Corporation. 

"The first order of business is a report I have from one of our associates," Edward said. "Somehow those accursed Barrington's sold their dock property to somebody, and I can't figure out who or what it is!"

"There are some new logos there," Ned said. "Our management noticed it. We had the law firm check the title to the land. It is still in the Barringtons' name. Only the facilities have been sold."

"Maybe it is only a new company of their own," Jax suggested. "I'll see what I can find out."

Sonny Corinthos had a representative there. With the verdict, it was not surprising that Sonny did not dare to show up. The representative was a lawyer named Bill Worth. Bill just said that he thought that was a good idea.

"I'll walk down there and have a look at the logos," Jax said. "I have some people who are good at tracking things like that."

Elizabeth opened her eyes to see the room she and Paul had decorated. She sighed contently and snuggled a little more against Paul. When he woke up a little while later, he went to make some coffee. Coming back with it, he said, "I like your idea of putting art in psychiatrist's offices."

"Did I have that idea?"

"Yes, last night!"

"I forgot about it in favor of everything else!"

"Oh, what would that be?" he teased, getting back into bed and taking a sip of his cup of coffee.

"Would you help decide the subjects?" she asked. "Or the colors, or what to avoid?"

"That might be good. Hey, we would talk to people at Ferncliff about it too. The people in there could use any help they can get."

Later he went to get the paper. "Good God!" he exclaimed.

Elizabeth was making her extra special omelet. She looked up. "That Corinthos woman got a verdict of not guilty by reason of insanity!" 

Elizabeth looked over at the paper, still stirring. "Oh boy," she said. "I always thought Carly was nuts, but not that kind of nuts. I'm not sure that's such a good verdict. She knew what she was doing."

"She planned it," Paul said. "That shows sanity. This Dr. Barnes, who testified, I wonder what he said? Well, she'll be at Ferncliff at least. She'll get to see some of your pictures."

"She'll hate that."

"Do you know her that well?"

Elizabeth laughed. "Just to fight with her. She's Lucky's cousin. But she's jealous of attention going to anyone else. She didn't like me because for awhile I liked Jason. That was her brother-in-law, but even so, she had wanted him first, and probably still wanted him more. So then when I was competing to become the top model for Deception, she campaigned for the other girl. Not that I begrudge her that. But once she doesn't like you, it's like, you can't change that. We could meet in different circumstances. She'll remember that grudge. You might want another artist for Ferncliff."

He laughed and kissed her on the forehead. "You can use an alias. Or maybe she can learn she's not in charge at that place!"

"She's the type," Elizabeth laughed. "Put her in the insane asylum, and she'll try to be the top crazy person there. She needs attention, that's for sure."

"What a patient," Paul said. "Maybe she'll end up having a wing of Ferncliff named after her."

Quinn met Zander at Kelly's, having called to invite him to meet her there while she stopped for coffee on the way in to midnight shift.

"I'm off this shift on Saturday," she said. "Come over to my folks house for the Notre Dame Game."

He was quiet, and looked down, and fiddled with a napkin.

"If you'd like that, of course," she said, looking down and under a little to see his face.

"OK, I'll come."

"You sound hesitant."

"It makes me nervous. They might not like it if I come with you. They want the best for you. I don't think they could picture me as a good guy for you."

"But they do like you."

"As Pete's older brother."

"They like you for you. They already know you." She stopped a minute, thinking of what Paul had said. "It's the first chance they've had at that. With Paul, and especially Sean, all they got was 'here's my new boyfriend, like him.'"

He laughed at that. Encouraged, she went on: "They liked Paul. It was the way I felt about him they always questioned. I'm not sure they even liked Sean. They didn't get that much time with him. Maybe if I had married Sean, they would have learned to like him."

"Married Shyster Sean? Were you engaged?"

She giggled at his use of Danny's imaginary nickname, marveling again at what a memory he had for things like that. "No," she answered, "he asked, and I wasn't sure, and he didn't even want to give me any time at all. He just broke with me right then. It was harder because he was in another state, though."

"No wonder you get your reputation for not committing!"

"It felt wrong both times. Paul gave me more time, and I thought it might have helped. Maybe not. Maybe if you aren't sure when it first comes up, then you should consider it a relationship going nowhere. It can't be that simple, but I'm getting to think it might be towards that, anyway."

"You ought to come with a warning – do not ask this woman to marry you until you have a clearance from her. I'd be afraid to ask."

"You're so far off from that anyway. Women have it worse with you. I'd be afraid of using empty words, from your past experience. You should come with a warning – do not tell this man you love him until you have a clearance from him."

"Oh, well, I know Emily was shallow now. I learned that. I have a better eye for it, but it doesn't make me think everyone is shallow."

"All right. But don't underestimate. You might still do that. Like my family. They like you. It is not conditional on your not dating their daughter. Not at all. They know I like you. Granted you know they are likely to tease me about it. They're only teasing, you do know that, right?"

"Yeah. I've heard Danny teasing you. I never know exactly when he is serious though."

"No one has seen him be that since 1970. About the last time he was wrong, as he says."

Zander smiled. He took her free hand. "OK," he said. "I'll brazen it out."

"Good," she said. "You'll have fun. And you know what I saw the other day?"

"What did you see the other day?"

"Joanna and I went into the Outback for a drink. We sat at the bar. There was Alexis, talking to Jerry!"

He laughed. "Maybe we aren't needed."

"She had some papers, like a file, but I think she just had that with her when she went to get a drink. She was in a friendly mood. I introduced her and Joanna and he got us drinks with his usual fanfare. But they left us to talk and started to talk again themselves. So you might be right. Unless it was all business. That much I could not tell."

"The elevator is looking like a better idea every day."

"Be nice, don't tease him," Quinn said to Danny and Kathleen. "He is a little anxious, I'm sure of it."

"Since you seem to spend so much of your time trying to get another couple together," Kathleen laughed, "I think you may be a dating service rather than a couple."

"We got started on them, and now it's a big joke with us," Quinn answered, with a giggle. "Is there something there? Does one or both not realize it? Can we act as matchmakers? It's fun."

"She seems like an awfully nice lady," Kathleen said. "I like her. If this Jerry isn't for her, I may look around for her."

"Now you sound like the dating service," Quinn said. "Don't compete with ours. We will run you out of business."

"OK, I take that warning."

Joe came over, with a case of beer. Danny and Joe sat down, prepared to cheer Notre Dame to victory, and as if they might have something to do with it if the team won.

When Zander came in, he found that Quinn's brothers were both out. In fact, "Tim is over your house," was the report from Danny. Zander realized that mean Oksana's house. He didn't try to oppose that. It was as good as any other way of referring to it. Maybe better.

He sat on the floor next to Quinn. There was nothing different about the way Joe or the Connors treated him. He was still a little nervous, though. He concentrated as hard as he could on the game. He knew so little about football.

Quinn began to realize this, and whispered to him now and then, an explanation.

"What are you two giggling about?" Danny asked.

"I'm explaining how the ball gets turned over," Quinn said. "In Russia, they don't play this game, and I don't think Zander or his family have been much into it, even living in the US."

"Well heck, don't feel like it has to be a secret," Kathleen says. "We understand this. As long as you root for Notre Dame, you can be as ignorant as you like, Zander."

Zander smiled at her. "I perfectly understand the necessity of pulling for Notre Dame."

"That's all you need to know, my man!" Danny laughed. "Have a beer!"

He took the beer, a little shyly. He felt a little better.

From then, Danny and Joe seemed to make a point of explaining what was happening if it looked like something in the game could be confusing for a beginner.

When the game was over, someone had the idea to call up for a pizza. Sitting in the dining room over the pizza, Kathleen said to Zander: "I got a report from Amanda. She thinks you are going like gangbusters. Has she taken you to a battlefield? She mentioned that."

"Yes. We went on a chartered plane, a couple of days ago! All within 8 hours! It was interesting, really."

"Where did you go?" Kathleen asked.

"Quebec City."

"There's a battlefield there?" Quinn asked.

"Yes. The Plains of Abraham," he answered.

"But what Battle was there?" Quinn asked.

"The Battle of the Plains of Abraham. You don't remember it, from school?"

"No. Not a good sign, is it? What do we learn these things for?"

"It was between the British and the French in the French and Indian War. In 1759."

"And what happened?" Kathleen asked.

"The British were victorious. Their general died in it though. So did the French one. It was a fallout of the Seven Years War in Europe. I knew about that. Between the British and the French. They seemed to be always fighting with each other."

"That's interesting," Kathleen said. "I wish I knew more European history. And then what was the effect of the British winning Quebec City?"

"The British consolidating their hold on the colonies, to the exclusion of the French. They required the people in Quebec City to take an oath of loyalty to them."

"Sounds familiar," Joe said.

"You are remembering it?" Zander asked.

"Oh, no, Zander," Kathleen grinned. "Now you and I have, unintentionally, gotten them started on the Irish."

"The Irish?" Zander asked. "What have they got to do with it?"

"Oh, boy do you have a lot to learn," Quinn rolled her eyes, and gestured at Danny.

"You know where they got their first practice on things like that? The British. Conquering other people's land?" Danny asked, eyes all twinkling in merriment.

"Ireland," Zander hazarded a guess.

"Right! You catch on quick, Zander!" Danny laughed.

"The songs on the tape you gave me," Zander said to Quinn, "now I understand a little better. The narrators in those songs most often sound as if they are in America, not in Ireland. In a couple of the songs, they sound as if they blame the British for their having to leave Ireland and come to America."

"Yes," Quinn smiled. "You're really catching on, now."

"When did the Connors come to America?" Zander asked.

"In the 1870s, I believe," said Quinn. "The Hanleys came in the 1850s, on account of the famine in 1849, probably."

"But how do the British come in for getting blamed for a famine?"

"The explanation goes like this, I think," Quinn said. "The British pushed the Irish to the less desirable land as they tried to take over. The Irish multiplied anyway, because the potato had been introduced from the new world, and it would grow on this less desirable land. The potato crop was blighted in the 1840s. The Irish were so dependent on that one crop, that they starved. Now how that's the fault of the British, I'm not sure. I suspect because they pushed the Irish to the less desirable land, where only the one crop would grow, leaving them dependent on one thing, which is obviously potentially disastrous if that one thing isn't around."

"Pretty good," Joe said, "You have it down in a nutshell, Quinn. But anyway, we dislike the British as a sort of joke around here, Zander. We don't really hate them."

"Gaad Dahm them," Danny said, in his best Irish brogue.

Everyone else laughed so hard they couldn't talk for a minute. Zander smiled, sort of catching on, buy enjoying how they were amused, anyhow.

"Stop with the British, right now," Quinn said. "Zander gets too much scapegoating. The Quartermaines were always doing it to him. So I won't blame him if he identifies with the British. God knows what the British have done to Little Emily. And I didn't tell you, Zander, but you must know, Lucky told me how you ruined her Christmas vacation. You must have yelled at her but good."

"Well, let's see if I can work this out," Zander answered, grinning. "The British caused the famine. That caused large numbers of Irish to come to America, which includes the Hanleys. The Hanleys descendants include a nurse, who was taking up the attention of Emily's former boyfriend at the same time she wanted to make him understand she was not at fault for breaking up with him by letter. The former boyfriend was therefore short with her, which in turn wrecked her Christmas vacation. Therefore, though it took them centuries to set it up, the British wrecked Little Emily's Christmas vacation."

"You're all right, Zander," Danny said. "You got it down cold already!"

"Seriously, Amanda talked to me about this," Kathleen said. "I have a plan in the works to take you to Gettysburg. We can take the boys, too."

"Wait a minute," Quinn said. "You're not going when I can't go."

"How often do you have Saturday off?" Kathleen asked, grinning.

"Take them out of school one day, then."

"See if one of your buddies will trade shifts with you," Kathleen answered. "Doesn't that Joanna gal owe you one for her date, or something like that?"

"OK. But tell me when, or you will have to listen to me complain."

"We've survived that!" Kathleen answered. "And we'll have to again many times!"

"Why Quinn, are you an expert of the Battle of Gettysburg?" Danny asked. "I've never noticed that before."

"I want to be there to help Zander deal with you," Quinn answered.

"I couldn't survive it without you," Zander said.

Everyone laughed, and Zander felt good to have raised it. He joined in.


	89. Chapter 89

**Part 89**

Quinn took the time off to go to the Daytona 500. Sergei and Zander, Joe and Quinn flew down. They went to stay at the house Zander had grown up in.

The house was amazing; it was right on the beach. Zander showed Quinn around it.

"I don't believe I've ever been in a place like this!" she exclaimed.

"This was my room – this is where you stay," he said, opening a door.

It was a large bedroom, and it faced the beach, and there was even a small balcony outside. The windows went down to the floor.

"This was your _room_?"

"Yes. Pete's is across the hall."

There was a study on the first floor. Sergei looked around until he found the mementos they were looking for.

"Here you go," Quinn said, picking up a box. "A real gold medal! Goodness, what does it say?" The lettering was in Russian.

"First place, swimming," he answered, looking over her shoulder. "One hundred meter crawl."

"First place where?"

"In that district. The league."

"How big is this district?"

"I don't know. I think it might be like a school district."

He had several, some for other sports. "They look the same," Quinn said. "As if the same body holds the contests."

"Yes, it's pretty well organized there. Sports are always a big thing to them."

"You do have a family album!" she said, opening a book of photos.

Zander didn't seem to want to look. Quinn looked through the pages. "These are so cute," she said to Zander. "How about looking one if I tell you what it is of first?"

"OK."

"This looks like Oksana leading two small boys by the hand. They are both adorable. The bigger one really is."

He looked, putting his arms around her. They both looked at it for awhile.

He looked off, and noticed something. He went to pick it up. "What's that?" Quinn asked.

He smiled at her. "It's that damn Russian passport."

"This is it? The notorious Russian passport?" He gave it to her. She opened it, looking at him. Then she looked down to read it. "That's your first name," she said, hazarding the guess by the placement and seeing the "A." "That's your last name, with the 'K.'" Is this your middle name, with the 'C?'"

"No," he said. "Russians don't have middle names. They only have patronymics. That letter that looks like C is S in Russian. Sergeevich."

"Oh, neat. Like mine would be Daniela, or something like that?"

He laughed. "Something like that. But what is your middle name?"

"It's the most obvious one I could have."

"Daniela?"

"No," she chuckled.

"Josephine?"

"Nope."

"Kathleen?"

"Yep."

She sat down and picked up the photo album again.

"Where is this?" she asked, "Is this your school uniform?"

He sat down next to her and looked. "That must be in Russia. It's that school uniform."

"Oh, so those are classmates of yours?"

"Yes."

He got up and looked again at the things on the table. "Here's the school yearbook," he said, going back to her to show it to her.

He found his own picture, and Peter's. Their Russian names were beneath their pictures. They had on the dark suit and tie of the uniform, like the other students. The girls had dark jumpers. Zander picked out a few as friends of his, and showed her the teachers' pictures.

"I saw your yearbooks when Pete gave me a tour of your room, but I didn't get to look in them for your picture," Zander said. "It's only fair if you show me those when we get back!"

"Oh no, it's not. You're cute in these pictures. I looked like a dork in those days!"

"I'll be the judge of that," he answered, turning her chin up to kiss her.

The race was fun. Quinn had never dreamed she'd ever see one this way. They weren't in the stands, but in the club house. The view from there was perfect.

Ward Burton won, and Jeff Gordon came in ninth. "I am preparing to boast of seeing this to Dad," Quinn said. "Let's make of note of everything he can't see on TV, Joe."

"Your Dad sure got us some good seats," Joe said, as they watched while Sergei showed Quinn one of the cars after the race. "I want to do something special to thank him."

"I know it must be that it looks like I exaggerated, back in the hospital," Zander said.

"Well, not so much as to that. He's a nice guy, but I don't know him much more than on the surface. Exactly what you said, he's a nice guy, very charming, on the surface. You know him, and had to deal with him, a different way. You can still tell way more than I can. So I'm not meaning that I think you exaggerated there, when you were talking about it then. What do you think of him now – has he changed any? You've been forgiving of him; maybe he'd feel a heck of a lot worse trying to pull something sneaky in light of that."

"I think he's OK, so far. I don't know. He's always older and smarter than I am, is the trouble. He's been like his old self, and I always felt bad he went to jail. He doesn't seem as hostile about Mom. Maybe time has helped with that. I can always be missing something, though."

"I'll keep an eye on him. I've never dealt with somebody who is smart the way he is. Streetwise and worldly wise and smart all at once. But any other pair of eyes, especially as old as mine – well, they might not be much help, but they can't hurt."

"I do put a big value on what you think of him, Joe. I think it is good that he sees Pete. It doesn't matter what he's done. From what I read in the books Alexis and Quinn gave me, they make sense, and convince me that my mother shouldn't have cut us off from Dad, while at the same time Dad shouldn't have cut us off from Mom. Then on the other hand, I'm not sure what else he could do, with all that fighting. Maybe Dad was legally in the wrong, but they were always fighting, even if we saw both of them. I don't really know if that was worse or the same as not seeing one at all, and being with the other all the time. It's like there is no solution."

"They might have both done the best they could. They might have tried harder to put their conflicts aside, whatever they were. I don't know them well enough to see why they didn't stay married."

"I hate to realize it, but I don't either."

"A lot of the time, I think my stepson could have used a father figure. He was too cut off from his father, and because of that we were closer, and then he was cut off from me. So I don't think it was a good thing, and I wasn't even his father. Legally, I had no rights at all."

"How old was he when you got divorced?"

"Seventeen. He was ten when I met him."

"By now he is probably old enough to talk to you if he wants. Do you think he would want to?"

"I don't rightly know, but I'm where I always was. I think he knows I would be here for him, though I'm not sure. He must have heard some stuff from his mother. It wouldn't take me by complete surprise if I heard from him one day."

"I hope so. I put my two cents in about Pete seeing Dad. I don't think Dad manipulated me into it. Not that I can tell. It might not matter if he did – it is supposed to be a good thing for Pete to see Dad."

"You could put your two cents any time. Your mother can hear your two cents, that doesn't hurt her. She can be influenced by it or not. I hope it does, because you know about where you are coming from where Peter might not be able to express it."

"I could have made it worse, if she thought Pete was just getting that from me."

"Pete's been with her four years, just them, so she knows what Pete thinks. She might have been able to work out visitation like this without having found you. I doubt it somehow. So it has done you all good. You need them, and always needed them more when you didn't have extended family. If you'd had your grandparents or aunts and uncles, even just having them to talk to or visit might have made it bearable. Without all that, the pressure was too great."

"Yes. Those books referred to how the families can get involved in the fight, too, though. It can get to be all out tribal warfare, they called it."

"Probably not all of them, though. There was likely to be somebody that would have been a help to you. Their divorce was especially unfortunate, with your family so cut off from the rest as it was."

"And they didn't have a lot of close friends, either. All these business associates and new people coming through. But nobody who stuck by them. Nothing like you can Danny. They traveled too much. That's why Dad's kidnapping wasn't so bad from my perspective. If we had to be with only one, then being with Mom in Florida and her traveling around all the time wasn't as good a thing as being with Dad in Moscow and his being there. Rosa she had let go because we were too old, but we needed either Rosa, or the situation like we had with Dad."

"I wish you could have stayed those last two years with Dad. It would have been much better for you."

"Yeah, if I had only just not given in to her when she was in Moscow."

"I think your Mom could have recognized how it was and let you go back there had she stopped long enough to really think about it. Don't blame that on yourself."

"Thank you, why are you always on my side?"

"You need somebody like that. I'm glad you have this Rosa back, too. But she might lean toward Mom a little. Your friend Alexis, I think you can count on. You're not used to it. But me, Quinn, all of us, you count on. Try to, anyway. OK?"

"OK, if you will ask me to do anything I can do for you."

"We know that. That's how it works. It's you that needs to know it." 

The next day, Zander showed Quinn how to wind surf. She kept falling down, getting her balance only after a long while.

He laughed at her, and later he took her out in the sailboat, explaining how the sails worked, and that it was similar with the wind-sail.

She sat back in the boat, enjoying the February sun.

"You look like a real Florida girl," Zander commented.

"I could get into that. I cannot believe it is February!"

It was dark early. A while after dinner, he asked her if she wanted to walk on the beach.

It was beautiful. The moon was out, shining on the clear ocean. No one else was out there. The wind blew and the sound of the wind and the surf was lovely. It was a perfect place for walking hand in hand.

"Romantic," she said. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Yeah, it reminds me of being out here as a little kid," he said. "Rosa brought us out here at night sometimes. She told us stories. A lot of them were about pirates. That was our favorite kind."

"You do have good memories," she said. "I'm glad you're not trying to forget them all, anymore."

They walked a little while. He stopped to kiss her, and did so very gently. She smiled, and pulled him closer to her, when she did this he pulled her yet closer and kissed her far more passionately than he had ever done before. She kissed him back; held him tighter, feeling like she was a perfect fit to him.

In a few minutes, the tide came up, and they were standing in the water. They started to laugh. He picked her up and carried her out of it, and set her back down on the sand.

She pulled him back to her and put her arm around him, walking back to the house.

He walked her up to her room, or his room, and stopped at the door to kiss her goodnight a few times. She was going to pull him into the room, when he said, "Goodnight, Quinn," and pushed her into the room, closing the door on her, if gently.

She looked around, somewhat startled. She had a hard time going to sleep for awhile, but eventually, the crashing waves overwhelmed her wakefulness. 

On the flight back, Quinn sat with Joe for awhile.

"That was a strange race. I never thought I'd see the like of Marlin getting out to work on his car under the red flag!" Quinn said to him.

"Wonder if he would have won if he had not had to go back to the end of the lead lap," Joe answered.

"And continued with a damaged right front fender. One of those things we'll never know."

"And having that view! I hope I didn't get spoiled getting to watch that race from there."

"Speaking of views, did you see the one from my room, from Zander's bedroom? I can hardly believe that bedroom belonged to a 10-year-old. Have you ever seen the like?"

Joe grinned, and shook his head. "Not in all my many years."

"Almost seems like a waste," she said.

"Yeah, I imagine certain teen-aged girls might have appreciated it more."

"They would have! I can imagine those girls, too, quite well!" she laughed. "I tried to imagine my parents separating. How they would handle it. But I can't imagine how they would handle it, because I can't imagine them separating. I hope it's not wishful thinking, but I don't believe it is possible."

"Probably not. If it had, it would have been minimal disruption to you and the boys, I would think."

"Does that ever happen? The closest I can think of is Joanna's kids. They live in the same house, go to the same school, the only difference is their father not living there and having to go to his place for visitation. Now she goes out on dates. They have to adjust to that, and someday maybe to new stepparents."

"Zander and Peter didn't get that, at least. But the rest of it was so very disruptive. Mainly the cut-off from a parent is the worst. This whole case makes me a believer in that."

"If nothing else," Quinn answered. "How do you trust anybody with that in your history?"

"There's got to be a way. Believe in it."

"Two things happened," Jax told the ELQ Board at its next meeting. "Barrington's corporation, of which they own a third themselves and a third through other companies they control, had the remaining third scattered among different shareholders, but now one single corporation has bought up that previously scattered third. They don't control, of course, the Barringtons still do, but they own a solid one third block."

"It doesn't sound as if it will make any significant difference," Ned observed.

"No. Something to keep an eye on, that's all," Jax replied.

Edward Quartermaine growled a bit. "What is the name of this company?"

"It is a new Delaware Corporation, called Pexander, and the owners appear to be three Florida corporations, one Dutch Limited Company and one Russian Joint Venture."

"It still sounds like trouble to me," answered the ever-conservative Edward. "Check it out some more."

"A few years ago, the Quartermaines had to buy 60 of their own shares or lose control," Alexis was explaining to Sergei, jogging in the park. "When Jasper Jax tried to buy more than 50, it caused a rally in which Corinthos tried to do the same thing. In the end, it shook out that the Quartermaines owned 60, Jax 20 and Corinthos 20. Jax continually tries to get Corinthos to sell to him and vice versa."

"So this Jerry Jax has little to do with his brother."

"Not that I can see. Jerry owns his land and building. As to Kelly's, the Spencers own their land and building. I am getting Jerry interested, I think. The Spencers I'll work on next. If they will sell their underlying land to Alter Corporation in return for a guaranteed low rent and a franchising opportunity, then you can move in and squeeze out the mob. Jerry doesn't admit to paying them anything, but he's right there in their territory. Not having to pay them is a boon he will get later, which will really get him on your side."

"Good work."

"It's a great plan! Did I tell you I love this plan?"

Sergei laughed. "It is more fun than beating the Russians out of Daytona."

"How was your date with Glen?" Quinn asked Joanna, during a lull on the swing shift.

"Pretty good. He pressures me though. I would like to cool it for awhile."

"Pressures you for what?"

"To spend the night, you know. The kids. I don't feel comfortable."

"Tell him to take a hike. If he cares about you he can understand that for awhile, I would think!"

"Well, I can see his point. I have to get past all that I guess, if I'm going to get anywhere. And if you can believe it, Charlie already makes noises like he thinks I shouldn't go out! Like where does he get off?"

"How did he say that?"

"Just his little insinuations. You might not think he was doing it but I know him and I know he's doing it. His little comments about how I am not there, so he should have the kids that weekend. Well, most people like to do dating on the weekend! Does he really stay home every other weekend?"

"What if he dated when he had the kids? Had some woman stay over? Or had a babysitter while he stayed with her?"

"He has more time for that, with no kids."

"True enough."

"I haven't been tested, because I haven't become aware of any girlfriend. I guess he is not into dating much, or he hasn't found anyone who will put up with him longer than one date. But these men out there today! They are so much more pushy! How can you stand it? Can't they wait a little longer?"

"Depends on the man, I guess. I have the reverse problem. Though I would rather have it than the pressure too soon. You know how I'd take that!"

"How is that? The reverse problem?"

"The day after the race, we were on the beach all day - you would not believe some of the stuff there - but I'll tell you later so I can get to my point. When it was dark, we were out walking on the beach. Moonlight, and everything you could ask for as to being totally romantic. The water came up around our ankles we were paying so little attention."

"Well, and so, what _happened_?"

"Nothing. I mean, nothing more. I was a little let down – not really – no I mean, more, I only wanted to keep on, and, well, it was the beach, and the house there, so big, and his room looked out onto the ocean, where I was staying, and it was so romantic out there in the dark, the wind, the moon, and you could hear the waves. You could hear them from in that room. I was - I wanted him to – I just thought that was when –"

"Well, I don't know," Joanna answered, rescuing Quinn from this description, "If it is only based on this one incident, you may not have this so called problem."

"How do you figure that?"

"Say you were in your backyard. At your folks' house. The two of you. He sweeps you off your feet and carries you up to your room – you know, the one with the pom-poms from high school, and your high school yearbooks, and you frilly bedspread, and your keep sake dolls and photos of the high school cheerleading squad?"

"No. That would not be good."

"Not real romantic."

"It would make me nervous. Where did you get this idea? No way! That place is like a resort! Right on the ocean. In the sun set – the sun sets the wrong way, but it's still beautiful. There's a pool, even though the house is right on the beach! Tennis courts. An open upper deck, you can stand on and look out over the ocean."

"It's a weird place to feel that way about all right, yet he could have."

"I guess you're right. Why didn't I think of that? He gave me his very room. It's been redecorated, I guess Sergei was there awhile. Still, that's his childhood room. What a room for a kid!"

"Still it's the same to him as your room with the pom-poms!"

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Joanna. I was feeling half rejected. That house is so fancy, and so modern, and so - not a house you grow up in, that I overlooked that completely."

"Wasn't his dad there? Wasn't Joe there?"

"You can't imagine the size of this place. They were far away. Like in another room at the same hotel."

"I still sympathize with Zander, here. Joe in the same house, even if it were a hotel resort. He could take it in his head to come say good night to you. And a guy is a guy. He'd rather show Joe he is looking out for you, by like, _not_ being there. And believe me, half-rejected, is the most you'll ever do."

"Oh, Joanna! Thank you. But Joe does not treat me like I am a kid. But what childhood home! What a crazy life Zander has had!"


	90. Chapter 90

**Part 90**

"How do we do something to thank a guy who has so much money?" Joe asked Quinn, when they met for a lunch in the hospital cafeteria. "We can't give him anything. We can't take him anywhere."

"I have an idea," she answered. "I took my camera and took some pictures. We can put the pictures together in a album. That gives him a memento of the Daytona 500 for this year, but more important, it gives him some up-to-date pictures of Zander. I even have one with both of them in it. You're in it, too. I wish I had thought to take one of the two of them only."

"Maybe you can take me out. Brad might be able to do it on the computer."

"I'll ask him. In a pinch, I have some experience with cutting someone out of a picture," she grinned. She took her picture of Paul out of her purse and showed it to him.

"Best to get rid of that before somehow Zander knows you have it."

"That's a good thought. It does make it look like I want to keep a picture of Paul, doesn't it? What would I do without you for advice on male thought processes?"

"I really don't know."

"It was by my desk, of him and me, and I liked the shot of me, so I cut him out to keep myself. I was going to trash it. Then I thought maybe Paul would want it."

"I'll take it to him next time I go to the hospital, if you don't have time."

She handed it to him. "Thanks Joe! What would I do without you?"

He smiled at her, and took the torn off photo of Paul. 

Zander called Quinn while she was on the swing shift, in the evening. She got his message on cell her phone. When she took her "lunch" break at 10:00 she debated a moment whether it was too late to call back.

She called, and was glad he answered. "It's a little bit late, but I took a chance you don't go to bed this early."

"No way would I ever go to bed this early."

"You get up really early to study," she pointed out.

"You can call me in the middle of the night, if you want."

"Be careful. I could get bored next week on the midnight shift."

"I know you like the midnight shift least," he said. "But I have been thinking about this swing shift. I can hang out with you in the evening on the midnight shift. But this shift covers all evening. So I hate to disagree with you, but I like the midnight shift better than the swing shift."

"You know, I agree with you. Now I like midnights better than this one. It never bothered me before. Paul had some off hours, especially if he was out at Ferncliff. But I didn't ever miss him this way."

"You know how to be a flatterer, don't you?"

"Nope. Not at all. I never did have a boyfriend before who I couldn't skip a day seeing and not notice. Don't laugh! I'm serious, I swear! Can you take a lunch break? Meet me tomorrow at Kelly's."

"My boyfriend had this idea of doing an exhibit," Elizabeth told V. as V. drove them away from Ferncliff, where they had been checking out the space on the walls and talking to a few of the doctors and social workers about putting art work up there. They had also had an interesting run-in with the new patient, Carly Corinthos. "Rent some space and just put up an exhibit, even if only for one day. If you're interested, maybe we could do a joint one. I had a brilliant idea for a place for it. There's this box car out in the woods, off Gordon Road. Lucky, my ex-boyfriend, used to stay sometimes in this old box car. It would be perfect for a little exhibit. I'm not sure he'd like it. But he doesn't own it."

"That's county parkland, I think," V. said. "Nobody owns it but the county. Nobody must be concerned about this box car, or they'd have done something about it while he was living in it."

"So you think the county wouldn't let us do an exhibit in it? Or we could use it, because no one is concerned about this box car? I may have to check it out, though. Lucky has his own place now, but who knows? Or some other high school kid may have found it."

"If anyone uses it, the use is probably less desirable to the county than our plan."

"Yes! You're right, V.! The county – the government, would really love this sort of thing. Local artists, yadda, yadda. Let me show it to you. Do you have time to go over there?"

"Sure. I'll turn around to get to Gordon Road."

"What is Dad doing with these new corporations?" Zander asked Alexis at the office the next day. "Don't tell me they aren't his. Why are they both named after Pete and I?"

"Oh, it's only business," Alexis said. "He's getting into some things around here. You don't mind that, do you?"

"No. If he is hanging around in town, I like it. I never understood what he was doing, anyway. Neither of them."

"They should teach you sometime. It's the family thing. Like the Quartermaines who can always work at ELQ. Your Mom could show you the ropes at Deception, it's a simpler business set-up."

"Maybe I'll get her to one day," he said. 

"Has she been home more, that you've noticed?"

"Yes. I don't know if she really is or not. When you are a little kid, it probably seems like they are gone longer when they go somewhere."

"Could be. But she's generally been around. Sergei, he's been gone, but I've always been able to reach him by phone. See, these modern cell phone deals and email - you can keep you in touch with them better than you could as a kid."

"Thanks for thinking of that, and telling me, Alexis. I could keep better track of them than I do. I just may do that. Know what they are up to. Now you, is Sergei giving you too much work? You aren't getting out enough, again."

"I should be doing OK, doctor," she laughed. "When the snow clears up a bit. Right now, I'm trying to learn more about the immigration laws. To see what happened to your mom's petitions for her relatives. She says they have been pending for years!"

Zander's eyes lit up a bit. "You mean, she's trying to get some of the Yesatkins to be able to come here from Yekaterinburg?"

"Yep. It's taking forever."

"I know about that!"

"She has to prove she is a US citizen, and that Nikolai and Anna are her parents, and that Mikhal is her brother, Yelena her sister, and so on. You wouldn't think that would be hard. There's her US passport. That proves she is a US citizen right there, on the ground that you have to prove you are one to get a passport. The State Department issues these in the US, then its very own office in Yekaterinburg needs proof it did so. So I'm going to try her Certificate of Naturalization. That's actually the main proof she is a US citizen."

"Then how does she prove to them her mother is her mother?" Zander said. "It doesn't sound difficult to the average person. But I've been in those consul's offices. I know they make it hard to prove that blue is blue and green is green."

Alexis laughed. "The federal bureaucracy strikes again! And people think the IRS is bad! There is her birth certificate and your grandparents' marriage certificate. They have to be translated. And her siblings' birth certificates."

"How hard is that? How can it take years? Does the Russian government take years to give people their own birth certificates?"

"Not that I know of, but the State Department worries about faked documents. I wonder if DNA tests would help. The parents are OK anytime. But the brothers and sisters have to wait literally years. They take brothers and sisters of US citizens, but only so many per year, so the line backs up for years. Fortunately, Oksana filed for them a long time ago, so their turn approaches. But now they want a million other documents, to prove they've never committed any crimes, that they are financially sound, and a hundred other security checks!"

"Not a surprise to me, anyway. When Dad took us there without US passports, we had to prove to that consul we were born in Florida, and we had to have birth certificates that were signed, stamped, beribboned and officially blessed forty ways. Then we needed affidavits of the doctor who delivered us before they would believe we were born here. If they make it that hard for a citizen, I can only imagine how much harder they make it for an alien! Which is what they call foreigners. It cracks me up. The consul in Moscow kept telling me I was an alien. It was almost worse than being called a deviant."

"I don't believe you!" Alexis laughed. "Nothing is worse than having Edward Quartermaine call you a deviant! Or a miscreant! That Svengali," Alexis lowered her voice, imitating Edward's as best she could. She wagged her finger at Zander the way Edward Quartermaine did. "Don't you come near this house again, you deviant!"

He laughed and wagged back at her, able to do a better Edward-imitation with his male voice: "I won't have your clients moving into this town and trying to help that deviant, you shysteress!"

They dissolved into giggles. They thought a client had come to the door, and straightened up quickly. It was only Oksana.

She smiled. "Must be a good place to work. Not too serious," she said.

"We were talking of your immigration petitions, in fact," Alexis said. "And this is where it led us. Come in, and Zander and I will look at them."

"I don't come to see you on them, or on business," Oksana said. "Something I want to talk to you about. Sander must not hear. It's about his birthday."

"When's that?"

"March 18."

"Oh, don't make a fuss of that," Zander said. "No reason to bug Alexis with it."

"Are you crazy?" Alexis said. She took up a set of motion papers, and rolled them up, then hit him on the head with it. "That's for not telling me last year when it was your birthday. Come in, Oksana, to my office, where we can discuss this out of my employee's hearing."

"Do you like auto racing at all, Jerry?" Zander asked Jerry when he and Quinn were at lunch, at the Outback. "Do you ever get a day off?"

Jerry smiled, and said, "Running a restaurant is one of those rewarding businesses, but hard to get away from. I've seen a few auto races. Over the years. Every once in awhile my brother takes it into his head to sponsor somebody."

"Quinn's a driver, in the local races," Zander said. "You should come and see her sometime."

"I would really like that," Jerry said.

"That's good!" Quinn said, when he was gone. "And of course we'll get Alexis there too, right?"

"Yes," Zander answered. "They have to run into one another someplace other than this. He's always at work when he's here."

"What did you work on today?" Quinn asked.

"History, and Economics. Last night, I helped Pete with algebra and chemistry. Mom keeps complaining, and I keep explaining that when I do that, I remember it much better. Amanda said it is OK. That you learn what you teach much easier."

"Well, that's good. How does it go otherwise?"

"Sometimes I look at a paragraph, and it looks long, and I can't get started on it. Other times in the middle of the paragraph, my mind goes somewhere else. Amanda said take it one sentence at a time, or get up and take a walk."

"Does that work?"

"Yes." 

"Could that happen in the test?"

"I don't think so. In the test, I feel like I'm doing something. If I explain it to Pete, I feel the same. It's the reading that feels like nothing is going on."

"What does your mind wander to?"

"Anything. The room, and outside, anybody in view. The Daytona 500, the Notre Dame football team, what my girlfriend might be doing, anything. Even another study subject."

"Which subjects do you like most?"

"Math is all right, once I get the hang of it. I can figure out the answer to the problem. English grammar. Literature isn't too bad, once I can get into the story or the way the language is. History kills me. I don't feel like there is a problem, or a story, or any set up to look at. It drones on and on with fact after fact that I feel sure I won't remember."

"Do you remember the fall-out of the battle in Quebec City?"

"I remember that. I saw the battlefield. I can picture it. That helps."

"We'd _better_ take you to Gettysburg! And to Independence Hall, too."

"Amanda showed me some pictures of Independence Hall. And a picture of the Declaration of Independence. The original one, in fancy writing, on an old yellow parchment."

"But how to remember what is in it? Can you picture that?"

"That's an idea," he took a book from his backpack at his side, and opened it to start looking at the Declaration of Independence. Quinn watched his eyes move back and forth as he read it.

"OK," he said. "The King, sitting at a desk, saying no. Refusing to assent to the wholesome and necessary laws and refusing to establish a judiciary power."

"Picture the crown on his head. And Thomas Jefferson with a paper that has the laws on it, trying to get the King to agree to it."

"OK! Thank you, Quinn! That's a good detail to add."

"Let me see," Quinn said, reaching for the book. He let her take it.

"How about - 'He has endeavored to prevent the Population of these States; for that Purpose obstructing the Laws for Naturalization of Foreigners; refusing to pass others to encourage their Migrations hither.' Picture the consul – put a crown on his head – refusing to give you your green card."

He laughed. "You make my bad memories into good ones."

"You could talk to Rosa about those stories she told you. Maybe she remembers them. Pirates, didn't you say? That sounded like a good memory."

"It was. Thank you for going there, Quinn. The whole thing came from your idea, the whole trip down there. It was a good memory itself."

"To me it was, too. You were wonderful in that surf. I thought you'd stay with me longer. I was going to invite you into your old room before you left."

"I know you don't like to be rushed into all that stuff."

"You're very sweet. I'm fine. Take your time. You don't need to be rushed either. But you're not rushing me."

"You're beautiful," he said. He took her hands and reached across the table to give her a kiss, and then another, and then another.

Someone was clearing their throat loudly.

They both looked up to see V. and Elizabeth.

"Why hello," V. said. "Is this a casual lunch date?"

"It was," Zander said. "but sit down anyway."

V. sat next to Zander and Elizabeth sat next to Quinn.

"I'm glad we ran into you," V. said, then jokingly, "though I'm sure you aren't. I have a message for you, Zander, it so happens."

"We are working on a project to help people at Ferncliff," Elizabeth put in, helpfully, "putting art work up. The shrinks help us design what they think will have a calming effect on the patients. So we ran into the notorious new patient, you know, your shooter, Carly? She saw V., and got the nurse to let her speak to her."

"After she had duly insulted Elizabeth," V. said, grinning, "there's some bad blood there, apparently – she told me she wants you to know – that she is very, very sorry, and she hopes you are fully recovered."

"I don't know if she deserves any credit for that," Zander observed, "She could be sorry I was not AJ. It only counts if she says it to him."

"Probably. That I don't know about," V. answered. "She looked sincere, for what it's worth, that she's sorry she hurt _you_, anyway."

"I'm all right," he said. "The one really getting the bad deal is her son."

"Michael? No doubt about that. Someday he'll have to know about all this."

"Zander understands about the custody battle," Quinn said. "His parents had one."

"I didn't know that," V. said. "I'm sorry about that. I guess you were in the middle. Well, if AJ has any sense, he'll listen to you. If Carly gets out, she is likely to try to see Michael or even try to get him back AJ is likely to try to keep her from seeing him at all. That's understandable in this case, but not really a good thing, overall. I've seen people bring their children to jail to see their parents. Somebody was saying that was awful, and some social worker told us this theory that it is still better for the child, because he knows where his parent is. Something like that."

"It's even worse than our case," Zander said. "At least my parents didn't shoot at each other."

"Michael will always be with the same people, in the same country, though," Quinn said.

"What other country would the Quartermaines go to?" Elizabeth asked.

"Quinn is referring to my brother and I," Zander explained. "My Dad taking us to live in another country against the custody orders."

"You lived in another country?" Elizabeth asked. "Which one?"

"Russia, when it was freed from the Soviet Union. Dad didn't mind going back there to get away from Mom and her custody order. They both escaped from there originally."

"You lived there? How long?"

"About two and a half years."

"No way! You can speak the language?"

"Of course."

"I never knew that! I would never have guessed that in a million years! You can speak another language? Wild."

"Don't look that amazed! I can't come off as so dumb that I can't learn a language with two parents who speak it and then living in the country itself a couple of years!"

"Well, I don't know," Elizabeth grinned. "I figured deviants don't learn second languages. But how old were you?"

"Thirteen, to sixteen."

"Where was your mother all that time?"

"In Florida. Looking for us, but she didn't find us until I was 16."

"AJ could take Michael to see Carly in Ferncliff," V. said. "He'll know who and where she is. He could do some supervised visitation afterward. She'll never get custody again after what she's done and the finding that she is insane. Now in that way, Michael will have more stability. He will always have AJ, and never have Carly."

"That's true, V.," Quinn said. "Michael will have it the same, rather than being shuttled back and forth, which was what happened with Zander and Peter. They didn't see their Dad, then they didn't see their Mom, then they didn't see their Dad again. They went from one house to another and from one country to another. Michael will be in the same house with the same family no matter what."

"But think of the family he'll be with," Zander said.

Elizabeth said, "Yeah, that's not so good. They'll be bickering the same way for all of Michael's childhood."

"I've heard about them," V. said. "True, but that's a different thing. They'll be themselves. If you are a Quartermaine you've got to deal with that anyway. It's better than being moved around."

"It will be very stable indeed," Elizabeth said. "The same bickering by the same people in the same houses. Giving each other the same insults."

"Maybe stability isn't everything," Zander said.

They thought about this for awhile.

"What are you studying?" V. asked, seeing Zander's book.

"The Declaration of Independence," he answered. "Quinn was trying to help me picture it. It helps me remember."

"That was what you were doing when we came by?" Elizabeth smiled a little. "How does that relate to the Declaration of Independence?"

"Maybe that's what they were doing sometime before we came by," V. laughed too. "You mean, you remember it better by picturing it? How can you picture what's in the Declaration of Independence?"

"Hard to explain all of it," he answered. "I picture Thomas Jefferson bringing a scroll with a necessary and wholesome law to the King, who sits on this throne and refuses to sign it. Somehow that makes it possible to remember one of the grievances. That the King refused to assent to the necessary and wholesome laws."

"I see," V. said. "Here, give me your paper and a pencil."

He did, and she started sketching on it. Quinn smiled, liking V. more, for doing this.

Elizabeth took a pad of paper and an artist's pencil out of the portfolio she had with her, and looked at the book.

V. showed her sketch to Zander. "What is it?" she asked him.

He smiled, looking at it. "For quartering large Bodies of Armed Troops among us." He handed it to Quinn. V. had drawn a very large soldier, who tossed a very big quarter.

Quinn watched Elizabeth's drawing, it was of a tired looking colonial on a tired looking horse, at the end of a long road, and in the distance was a tiny square with the label: "Depository of Public Records." Zander, upon seeing it, recognized it for the grievance where the King called the Legislatures to meet at inconvenient places far from the colonial Depositories of Public Records, for the sole purpose of "fatiguing them into Compliance with his measures."

"Not bad," Quinn said. "Artists' study guides."

"Our box car exhibit," Elizabeth said to V., "there's an idea. We can get our inspiration out of history."

"Like do some drawings that fit this theme?" V. asked.

"Why not? We help Zander study this subject at the same time. It's a good challenge, too," Elizabeth added. "How many colonials have I painted? None."

"We could do some research there," V. said. "Use paintings of the era, or descriptions, to determine what they would have worn, and looked like, and all that."

"This text book even has some," Zander said.

V. and Elizabeth looked at the textbook. Elizabeth had to look upside down, but that didn't seem to faze her.

"Redcoats," V. said. "I'd like to paint a few of them.

"And Indians," Elizabeth said. "I'd like to paint Indians."

V. turned a few pages. "Here's a painting of a redcoat. General Wolfe, expiring right on the Plains of Abraham. Where's that?"

"Quebec City," Zander and Quinn said, together. They looked at each other then, and laughed.

"This could work," Quinn said, looking back to the two artists. "What box car were you referring to?"

"Back in the day," Elizabeth said, "_way_ back in the day, Lucky discovered an old abandoned box car in the woods. We were thinking of having our exhibit there, if Lucky doesn't get in the way."

"If he complained, you could let him in on it," V. said. "Isn't he a photographer?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said. "Though we'd have to get him in on our theme. Photos of models aren't going to fit in."

"True," V. said. "Maybe he can do some old historic houses. Or we could get a model to dress in colonial costume."

"Hey that's not bad," Elizabeth said. "I like that one a lot. We could paint this model, V. We could get somebody who likes to sew, to design one."

"There's those re-enactment people out there," Quinn said. "They would know how to put the costumes together."

"Oh, like those people who dress up on the weekends in civil war costume and pretend to fight battles?" V. asked.

"Sure. They come in Revolutionary varieties," Quinn answered. "I've seen them, when we've gone to that kind of place for school trips or family outings. Once on vacation, we were camping in Pennsylvania somewhere, and saw them, at the location of the Battle of Someplace-or-other. I'll look in the family album to see the name. Then there's the Old Fort Niagara - that's close. My mother takes her students there on a field trip every year."

Jerry came, "well, hello," he said. "Miss V., how are you? Who is this beautiful lady?"

V. smiled. "Hi Jerry. This is Elizabeth Webber, my fellow artist. Elizabeth, this is Jerry Jax. He owns the Outback, and he's Jasper Jax's brother."

"Are they joining you?" Jerry asked Zander.

"They may as well," Zander said, looking at Quinn. 

"Oh, no," V. said. "We'll leave you two alone."

Zander gave Quinn another look, which seemed to ask her what she thought. "Yeah, you may as well stay," she said to the other two. She reached over and took Zander's hand. "I'll get him alone again sometime later."


	91. Chapter 91

**Part 91**

St. Patrick's day came around. Zander went to the Connors, as they had invited him to come over, along with Pete and Sergei.

"The luck of the Irish prevails," Quinn said, opening the door. I have day shift for today and your birthday tomorrow. What a great birthday! The day after St. Patrick's day!"

"I knew you had some connection to the Irish, Zander," Danny said. "You only missed by one day."

"I wore my green tie to work," Zander laughed. "And now, see, I have a green T-shirt."

"You're learning," Joe said.

Tim's birthday had been a couple of weeks before. He had decided to become musical again, taking out his old guitar and brushing up on playing it. So many of his birthday presents had been in the form of books of music to play. Zander had found a book of Irish songs for him.

He now took this out, and commenced to attempt to play them. Everyone else tried to sing them. They used their best Irish brogues; only Danny had a really good one. Quinn's wasn't too bad when she thought about it and spoke slowly. But singing distracted her away almost totally.

Zander smiled at the songs. He knew some of them from the CD Quinn had given him for New Year's. Most of them were amusing. They were lighthearted, like the Connors.

"The Connors are very Irish," he said to Joe. "They are funny, like the songs."

Pete got into the spirit of it, taking the book from Tim to read the words, until Tim took it back from him to read the chords. This procedure began to amuse everyone. The boys therefore took the book from each other with bigger fanfare each time.

They had a great time with one of the songs especially, "The Ballad of James Connolly." Whether it was the similarity of the name or the chance the song seemed to give to condemn the English, Zander could not tell, but he enjoyed listening to them and watching them take up the song with such enthusiasm. They especially liked the ends of the verses where they music made it necessary to accent the wrong syllable of the last word. They sang this phrase with a zest that would have brought a house down had there been any audience other than Zander and Sergei.

_God's curse on you, England, you cruel-hearted monster  
Your deeds they would shame all the devils in hell  
There are no flowers blooming but the shamrock is growing  
On the grave of James Connolly, the Irish Rebel_

The Four Courts of Dublin, the English bombarded,   
The spirit of freedom, they tried hard to quell,  
But above all the din, came the cry: 'No surrender!'  
'Twas the voice of James Connolly, the Irish re-BELLLLLLLLLLLLLLL, they sang, acting the part of the rebel Irish so thoroughly as to get Zander laughing out straight at their antics.

"Pete is the most Irish of them all," he told Quinn later, "he must have been born Irish, you would have thought."

"You can be turned into an Irishman yet," Kathleen had heard, and said this to Zander, patting his shoulder.

Later, Sergei showed him something that looked like a photo album. "Look at this thing, Sander, it's wonderful," he said. "Joe give it to me for taking him to the race. Look, we have pictures of the track and pictures from a magazine of the racers and of Marlin fixing his damn car in the middle of the track! And a picture of Joe looking at Nash's car, the one we sponsored, before the race, when we were down at the pits before it started. And look, Quinn got a picture of you and me she gave to Joe for it."

Zander looked through it. Joe had added a printed-out list of the names of all the racers, with their pole positions and their cars, and another list of how they had come in, from the winner, Ward Burton, on down.

"This is nice, Joe," Zander said. "It took some time to put together."

"It was a pleasure to do," Joe said. "I'm glad we got a picture of you and your Dad."

"Brad did a good job with that picture on the computer," Joe said to Quinn later. "Nobody suspects I was in it."

"Did you get rid of my picture half?" Quinn smiled.

"I did. I took it by his office. He took it and said thank you and asked how you were."

"And you told him I was doing quite wonderfully," she grinned.

"Told him you were doing wonderfully," he repeated, dutifully, "fantastically. Happy as a lark and happy as a clam."

"OK, so long as you exaggerated as much as humanly possible."

"Didn't have to. You look glowing today as usual lately."

She gave him a hug.

The next evening, Zander went to Oksana's house, knowing he had to put up with a birthday party. He had not dealt with this at all since Sergei had celebrated his 16th birthday in Russia, and no one seemed to appreciate how tough it was for him to see it suddenly noticed now.

He was amazed to see that Sergei was allowed over for this occasion, and so thought a little more of it. Rosa, Lisa and Diana were there, and every Irish-descended man and woman he knew. Alexis was there, and Amanda, and even Cheryl Shue. Zander felt shy to the point of nervousness about all the attention at once, and no one seemed to have pity on him about this at all.

Sergei told him to come outside to see his present. "You didn't give me a car," he said, "if you did, I'm not taking it, no matter what scene it makes at your party."

"Ah, no, it's not a car," Sergei said. Zander was surprised Oksana came too, and Quinn. Oksana had just asked her to come. This surprised but pleased Quinn.

"You just lied," Zander said. The new car was a Porsche, a dark green in color.

"You said a car," Sergei said, "this, now this, is a _car."_

Quinn wanted to laugh, but could see Zander was in no good mood over this.

"You can't make up anything with material things," he began to insist. "You shouldn't do this. Which one of you did? And what has the other done to try to top it?"

"This plan existed," Sergei said. "From when you were a baby. Before you could even walk, we had this plan. It was a joke then. We did not think we could really do it. Now we can, so we did it." He put his arm around Zander's shoulders and hugged him.

"We?" Zander started to have that lost look, one Quinn recognized as indicating the fear he sometimes had that his parents were up to something he could not control or do anything to prevent.

"We both went, and pick this car," Oksana said. "We get along the whole time."

"Both?"

"Yes, it's from both," Sergei said. "See, we worked in the sporting goods store, and we had this customer, he had a car like this, top line, in that day. We liked it. He gave us rides. Let me look at the engine. They make the best engines. Anyway, we sat on the beach with you later, and swore we someday be able to get a car like that. We think we probably could not, ever, but said when you were 21, we would, and you would have it, because we would be too old to look cool in it. You cry right then. But of course you did not understand, but we joke about a boy crying to have this car."

"When you were happy," he said, "Like you told me about," he said to Oksana.

"Sure," she said. She put her arm around him too, and leaned her head on his shoulder for a minute. He was still, and let her do this. "So you gotta keep this car," she said. "Anyway, you see you gotta keep it long enough to let Quinn drive it."

"Quinn," Zander said, looking up.

Oksana smiled at Quinn and moved away from his side, as if to tell Quinn to take over. Quinn walked over, hardly thinking, and looked at Oksana, amazed. She put her arm around Zander and took his hand with her other hand.

Oksana said, "We go in, you stay here with Quinn a minute. Remember we will take you, just you, out to Kelly's, like Gail said. We can get along for that."

"That's OK," Zander said. "I can do that."

"You been hesitating, with Gail, I can tell, about that. Now you see, we can do it. OK?" She left. 

Sergei patted his shoulder again. "What else a guy like me can do for his kid, my boy? You need a better car than the one you got. I want you to have the best one. Don't forget. Don't drive too fast, either. The cops around here - they seem like they know you." He went in.

Quinn held him awhile, thinking it better he not talk for a bit. Eventually, he lifted his head and kissed the top of hers.

"They used you, did you see how they did?"

She thought it better not to argue with him just then. "Sure," she said. "Do you think their baby story is the truth?"

"No," he said, but then he sounded hesitant. "But they came up with it together."

"That's something," she said, laying her head back against his chest.

"I asked her, on the way over to my grandparents, to tell me about when they were happy. For awhile she insisted like they never were. Finally, she told me about keeping me in that sporting goods store in a baby carrier, and sitting on the beach in front of the house they later bought. She said she was happy then. I don't see how they could have been sitting on the beach there, because it's a private beach. You saw it," he added, as if asking her to be his witness.

Quinn tipped her head back to look up at him. "And they would never trespass," she said, with a bright smile.

"No, never," he said, but he laughed. He kissed her. "Finally, I can buy you a drink," he said.

"Oh, heck, now I have to take my turn at designated driver."

"No. That never has to change."

"You're sweet," she said. 

"I tried to remember, from when I was young, about how the Soviets had all these bombs they wanted to rain down on us and how we had just as many bombs and how we could mutually blow each other up with the rest of the world," Danny was telling Sergei, as Quinn and Zander came back into the living room of the house, "Now it is funny to think I know two people who were there, and I was supposed to want to bomb them. I was supposed to think you and Oksana were dangerous, or something."

"Us too," Sergei said. "The West was always gonna bomb us. I always suspected against that. But a person would never dare say it. "

"Was it suspicious, that you couldn't travel?" Quinn asked, joining into the conversation.

"Sort of," Sergei said. "Hard for you to get this, but nobody left because nobody wanted to. This is how they got it to look. Like we live in a good, wonderful, Communist state. The West was so awful. Poor people on the street everywhere. Starved. Ragged clothes. Awful houses, falling apart. Big highways nobody could drive on, and people camping out under the overpasses, because they were too poor to have a house. We heard it when we were so young, we believed it all."

"Then you got to leave with the ice skating team," Zander said. "What did you think when you saw it wasn't true?"

"Hardly knew what I was supposed to think," Sergei said. "I see now I was supposed _not_ to. Supposed to think only about winning the competition, and worry about the Westerners cheating. We hardly went anywhere, so some claimed we went through the areas they keep nice for show. Always heard about how much they do for show in the West. And they kept sure to know where we were, and that we didn't go anywhere or see anything they didn't plan for us to see."

"Who do you mean by 'they' Sergei, KGB?" Joe asked.

"Yeah, exactly. They were always around when we were abroad. To defect, you gotta get away from them. It is hard to plan, you whisper, and you have to trust the other person. Oksana, I had to trust. She could tell them what I was trying to do. Later, after we did defect, we meet other Russians who did too. They scared us with stories about how the KGB runs all over America, and will take your children, to take them back to Russia for a proper communist education. We used to keep Sander right next to us every minute. That is how he had to miss nursery school."

"I'm crushed," Zander said, "at missing that. But tell Quinn about the time you thought KGB agents were spying on you."

"Oh," Sergei laughed. "My friends laughed at me. I had heard those rumors, though. When I first defected, American government officials at the immigration asked me a lot of questions. I knew they had to suspect a person like me. You could be doing it to spy. So they asked me all kinds of questions about things in the Soviet Union. They already knew, and wanted to see if I told the truth. Or they wanted to find out more. I did not know much that they could use on high levels, but they still were curious about all I knew about who was involved in athletics and the names of whoever I thought were KGB. I spended hours with them."

"So in a couple of years, I had heard all these rumors about the Soviets in America, and it appears to me like a couple of guys are following me. I keep seeing them. I start thinking, they look like damn Russians. See a car over and over, and thought it was them."

"Was it?" Quinn asked, eyes wide.

"No!" Sergei laughed. "They _were_ two guys following me around. That was real, no matter how many jokes about how paranoid I was anybody can make. Everybody tease me. They did not think I was crazy, but it is easy to sound crazy when you say the KGB is following you around. But the guys _were_ following me around. Finally, I go to the FBI. The local agent looked into it for me. They were not the KGB. It was the Americans, whose spies thought they heard of some plan to do something to somebody! So they were looking after us!"

"See, so he wasn't being followed by the KGB," Zander said to Quinn. "He found out, to his total relief, that he was followed by the CIA!"

Danny, Quinn and Joe laughed. "That's great!" Danny said. "What a story! So you weren't paranoid after all!"

"Nope," Sergei said. "The CIA was following me."

"You must have been relieved to see the USSR dissolve," Joe said.

"Yes. It was the best news. I never thought that would happen in a thousand years."

"And no more CIA followers!" Danny said.

Sergei laughed. "That was a good part too! But the Americans can spy on me all they want. No more KGB - that is the best thing."

Peter gave Zander a new tennis racket. Cheryl gave him a tie. Alexis had always been the one to give him a suit. She gave him a really nice one, dark gray, this time.

"I remember how much you liked him in a suit," Alexis told Quinn.

Rosa and her nieces each gave him a sweater. "Three sweaters," Rosa said. "Because it's so cold up here."

"I told you so, didn't I?" Zander said, giving her a hug. "You lived through one winter, in spite of your Florida blood. That's a good sign."

"All the sweaters you gave me helped," she said. "And the gloves. I especially need those. My hands get cold first. After my ears."

Amanda gave him a book of short stories by James Joyce. "Now _these_ make more sense," Quinn said, looking through the book with Zander.

"Are they as racy?" he asked her, with a mischievous grin. She smiled at him.

Quinn gave him a framed picture, of a map of Florida superimposed on a map of Russia. The distance of the West Coast of Florida was about the same as the distance between Moscow and St. Petersburg. "This is your own personal work of art," she said, pointing to the signature, "see - I got V. Ardanowski to do it. She generated this on a computer."

"This is beautiful," he said, kissing Quinn on the cheek. She put her arm around his shoulders and looked at it with him.

He had a model of a Daytona race car from Joe, and a computer program about American History from Tim and Brad, and an illustrated map of American History from Danny and Kathleen. "_Somebody_ told you about me and history," Zander said, putting a hand on the top of Quinn's head. "Thank you. This different stuff to look at seems like the best way for me to study something."

"We're going to fly down to Monticello," Amanda said.

"That's wonderful!" Kathleen said. "Between Zander and the rest of us, we'll turn him into a history expert yet."

Alexis was outside Kelly's watching Zander with Oksana and Sergei. She was supposed to be at the law library during this meeting, but decided to keep an eye on it instead.

She shivered. She saw Jerry Jax walking by. "What are you doing out here in the cold?" he asked. "Let me take you in."

"I need to spy on somebody in there," she said, and went on to briefly explain. "But I'm glad you came by," she added, looking around. "What do you think of the offer I described, now that you've had some time to sleep on it?"

"Well, it sounds pretty good, actually," he said. "I almost think there has to be a catch."

"None. Unless you think maybe getting rid of the local mob is a catch."

"Really?" he said. "Aren't _you_ a brave one?"

"When I introduce you to my client, then you'll see where my bravery comes from," she said, hopping up and down a little to keep warn.

"I think it might be a real blast to be in on it," he said.

"Smart move," she said. "I knew you were a smart guy."

Zander felt a lot better after his parents left. Gail had advised Oksana and called Sergei to advise him that they would be better off if they listened to Zander without getting critical about anything. That could lead the other to disagree and mess the whole thing up, if they couldn't keep that to themselves.

The meeting was rather stiff; Zander telling them only things that he thought would not be controversial, and distrustful of whether or not he might be wrong on them, too. Oksana said she would be happy to show him around Deception, and Sergei said he would get Alexis to help him explain some of what he was doing. Both of them liked the story about V. and Elizabeth's sketches, and Zander took them out of his backpack to let his parents see them. Admiring these took up some time.

The whole fifteen minutes went off without a fight. Zander thought he had witnessed a miracle. Oksana had not criticized him at all, and she had listened to Sergei without saying anything in response. Sergei smiled at Zander and even seemed to try to agree with Oksana where he could.

Thus they had agreed 1)that it was cold out today 2) that Sander looked very good and obviously was studying pretty hard and 3) that the girls who had done the sketches could draw very well.

Alexis ran around a corner when she saw that Sergei and Oksana were getting up to come out. Jerry ran with her, laughing at her.

"This spying business is very exciting," he observed.

"You have just seen a major summit," Alexis said, "and it appears that a truce is in reach. Don't complain when you see history in the making."

"All right, but I suppose it is your friend Zander and his parents?"

"Both at once. This is the divorced couple from hell, and they actually talked to their eldest for 15 minutes in a public place without declaring war."

"I'll remember this date," he said, eyes twinkling.

"Poor thing," Joanna was saying to Quinn, as they left work to go hang out at Luke's Bar for awhile. "Parental conspiracy to give him a Porsche."

"Well," Quinn answered, "he has the craziest life of anyone. All topsy-turvy. So it is not the same as it might be for you or for me."

"He really distrusts them, and for what?"

"I don't know. He's used to taking care of himself without them, so it must hit him a different way. He doesn't trust them because they turned his childhood life upside down."

"I know, but there's a point - what can they do with this car? He's the one in control of it."

"He must think they'll want something in return that comes at a higher price than any car."

"I don't know. If he doesn't take that car, I'm going to take him to Ferncliff myself. But seriously, I can understand. He's right. I try really hard to keep the kids out of whatever happens between me and Charlie. And I might not if not for knowing Zander's story. It is easy to slide right into. Just the other day, I was complaining to Heather about her clothes that got left at Charlie's. Then I stopped right in mid-sentence, realizing what I was doing."

"See, he's not so crazy."

"Oh, no, Quinn! I didn't mean that. I'll say another thing for him. He is way more interesting than Paul!"

"Interesting. _Interesting._ OK, I'll go with that," Quinn answered, giggling.


	92. Chapter 92

**Part 92**

Zander and Amanda went out to the Charter Gate at Port Charles Airport. The pilot there ready to fly them to Charlottesville was the same one who had flown them to Quebec City, Jackson Delaney. He had let Amanda sit up front with him then, as Amanda had instructed Zander to look at his history book while they were on the trip. This time, she said Zander should sit in the cockpit if Jackson allowed it.

"This guy had his own new sports car, a Porsche," Amanda said to Jackson. "So I don't think you can impress him much with your mere jet."

"I'm amazed you don't want to drive that Porsche down there," Jackson observed, as Zander buckled his seat belt.

"It's a long way," Zander said. "Over 500 miles."

"If I had a brand new Porsche, that's be a very short distance."

"Yeah, it all depends on how it comes into your possession."

"I'm trying to figure out a way it could come into my possession and I wouldn't want to drive it all over the place."

"Keep thinking," Zander answered. "I hope you are lucky enough to be unable to ever figure it out."

The next time he saw Gail, he got there before Oksana. Gail talked to him a little while alone. Zander complained to Gail about the car.

"You have talked of how much conflict your parents had," Gail answered. "They suspended that to give you the car. Look at that part of it for awhile. Sleep on it."

When he went back to Oksana's house, to see Pete, he noticed an addition to the rack they had in the entryway, for their car keys. Their names were on nice engraved little signs that said: "Peter's Keys," and "Oksana's Keys." Now there was another set, with an index card taped above it. It said, "Sander's keys" and had an arrow pointing to them. Someone, probably Pete, had written up another card that said the same thing in Russian, and taped it underneath, for good measure.

Zander saw it. He felt disgusted for a minute. His parents were so manipulative, he thought. They could even get him to feel guilty for rejecting their expensive sports car.

Jasper Jax was at the Outback, pestering his older brother for information.

"What is going on, Jerry?" he demanded to know. "Who owns this Alter Corporation?"

Jerry knew that Jasper had ways of finding this out, and so was only trying to see if Jerry would tell him voluntarily.

"I met the guy," Jerry said. "I don't know much about him."

"Are you doing this yourself?"

"Me? Little Brother, I'm a mere restaurateur! I'm not raiding anything. That's your area. Why don't you try getting in on it yourself?"

"I have fiduciary duties to ELQ," Jax said.

Jerry had heard Jax use this term a lot in the past. Jerry thought it was a general term meaning, generally: "What I am telling you is baloney, but I'm hoping this obscure legal term will get you to fall for it."

So Jerry laughed and asked, "Why does ELQ keep you from signing up with Alter Corporation? How are they going against ELQ?"

It appeared this his "fiduciary duties" to ELQ prevented Jax from revealing more. He went on, "I hope you don't have anything to do with Pexander Corporation."

Jerry laughed. "Never heard of them, mate. How about a beer? You could use one."  
Nurse Spencer came into the break room with an older lady. "Joanna, Quinn," she said. "I want you to meet Audrey Hardy. She was the head nurse here before she retired. She's just back from a stint in Africa. These are two of my best nurses, Audrey, Joanna Shields and Quinn Connor."

They all said they were pleased to meet each other.

"What was it like in Africa, Mrs. Hardy?" Joanna asked.

"Very challenging," Audrey answered. "I'm going to do a talk on it later and I hope you'll come. This year I'm again doing an old job of mine. One that I don't mind – organizing the annual Nurse's Ball."

"We were in that last year," Quinn said, "Time flies. It's time already to get ready for it?"

"You bet. You two can sing, that's what I have down from last year," she said. "No rush, just time to start thinking about what you want to do."

"OK," Quinn said. "I've got an ace in the hole. I can get my brother to play the guitar. Joanna can join up with us if she wants."

"Good idea," Bobbie said. "Sort of a reverse of Peter, Paul and Mary?"

"Yes," Joanna said, light bulb going off. "We'll do something folksy and sixties-ish."

"See how easy that is?" Audrey said, delighted. "I know you will all be wonderful."

"She is charming," Quinn said, when Audrey and Bobbie had left the room. "Can't believe she is Elizabeth's grandmother."

"Hope she likes the new psychiatrist," Joanna said.

"When you get under this," Jax told the ELQ board, "looking at the Florida companies, the Dutch companies, and the Russian venture, you keep coming up with this name: Sergei Kash, Kan, Khach - " 

"Goodness!" Monica said. "That's Zander's father!"

"What!" Edward was immediately suspicious. "I knew it was something up to undermine ELQ!"

"Not necessarily," Monica argued. "Barrington had various problems. He's an investor, in the neighborhood. It's naturally where he'd go."

"Who is Zander?" Jax asked. 

Monica explained briefly.

"What is the brother's name?" Alan asked Monica.

"Peter. Peter and Alexander," she said. "Pexander. Don't know why I didn't get that off the bat."

"Alter is the same in reverse," Jax observed.

"It is! That makes it likely it's this Sergei behind all that, too!" Ned exclaimed.

"Who is this Sergei?" Edward said, "I mean, besides being that deviant's father. Which means, no doubt, he's a criminal."

"Russians," said Sonny's lawyer, Bill Worth, looking at Jax's printed material, and then looking a little worried. "Russian organized crime."

"Right up your client's alley isn't it?" Alan said, sarcastically, to Bill.

"Sure enough," Jax said, looking back at his employee's report. "Alter is owned by two of the same Florida corporations and another Russian Joint Venture. Signs of an attempt at a raid," he turned to Bill, "see if you get approached by someone trying to buy your shares in ELQ."

"That's usually someone working for you," Bill Worth answered. "Are you willing to suspend such activity for now? Or is all of this about the Russian guy only a screen for your to get Mr. Corinthos to sell his?"

"Why would that be?" Jax said. "You criminals are so stupid, you don't even see when someone is on your side due to force of circumstances."

"What do you mean?" said Bill. "How do we know you aren't in up to your ears with this Russian guy?"

"I wouldn't be dealing in a corporation which has interests adverse to this one," Jax said.

"Why not? You're a minority shareholder in this one."

"I'm a director. Check your law books, counselor. But I suppose an honest person is not within your imagination."

"OK, OK, cool it," Ned beseeched them, "your infighting won't help."

"We've got to get this under control immediately," Edward declared. 

Gia Campbell wasn't all that pleased that the Engagement Party she and Nicholas were giving had to be scheduled so as to coincide with Miss Emily Quartermaine's Spring Break. The wedding was planned for June, and Emily would be back home after her freshman year then, but they had planned the wedding for June anyway, and Gia had confidence that the wedding itself could have been planned without regard to Miss Emily Quartermaine.

There had been a couple of weekends in consideration for their Engagement party, though, and Gia had disliked the pressure to fit it into Emily's schedule. When Emily was around, the world tended to revolve around her, and Gia did not think it was unreasonable that this Engagement Party be about herself and Nicholas.

She confided in Marcus, and he promised her it would be about her and Nicholas, even if he had to take Emily Quartermaine in. That was almost funny enough to make Gia laugh, since the chances of arresting Emily, even if she had committed a crime, seemed remote.

"And she will never commit a crime," Gia said, "or at least, if she does, she'll never be held responsible for it."

"This police station is straight up," Marcus insisted. "Nobody gets away with anything because of their name."

Gia got more sympathy from her mother, who was nevertheless the hospital administrator, and therefore under the influence of Quartermaines on the hospital board, besides working with both of Emily's parents on a daily basis. 

Gia was tired of arguing with Nicholas about it. He would only think she was jealous. Though Emily had never competed to be the lead model at Deception, it seemed to Gia that the general opinion was that if only she had, she would have won.

"You'd be amazed at how the little witch gets credit for everything she doesn't try to do," Gia told her mother.

"Oh, that's from being the youngest, spoiled little precious daughter of a wealthy family," Florence Campbell said to her daughter. "Of course you get credit for actually doing it, dear, and that means much more."

Nicholas had been friends with Emily for a long time, and he always thought it was longer than it really was, in Gia's opinion. Nicholas' brother Lucky was also obsessed with Emily. Gia didn't feel it was a threatening obsession on Nicholas' part; it was more the feelings guys might have for their sisters, though it was a bit much for Gia. Gia knew Marcus was always there for her, and would always be on her side, but he wouldn't do an unreasonable thing like expect his fiancée to schedule the engagement party around her. Nor would she expect him to. Gia only wondered that Emily didn't insist that Nicholas have his Engagement Party whenever it suited him. But it was not like Emily, in Gia's opinion, at least, to even think of such a thing.

Gia hadn't liked Zander Smith at first, mostly on cue from Marcus, but later came to appreciate his existence, as he and his problems had taken Miss Emily's attention up so well that Nicholas had managed to have time to fall in love with herself. She only hoped her brother-in-law to be, Lucky, could be similarly fortunate, and was glad Miss Emily Quartermaine had chosen to go away to college rather than stay in town and go to Port Charles University, the institution from which Gia would be graduating this spring. With Miss Emily far away, Gia thought, Lucky had a chance that his life could revolve around his own concerns.

Gia's life had been so busy with modeling, classes, and with Nicholas, and being relatively new in town when she started with all those things, her female friendships were in sad repair. She had been horrified at Nicholas' bright idea that Emily be her maid of honor. She got Emily moved down to bridesmaid in short order. Eventually, she hit upon Cheryl Shue, the kindest and most down-to-earth of the other models at Deception. Then she'd asked V. Ardanowski, Marcus' colleague, another such person, to be another bridesmaid. Lucky's former girlfriend Elizabeth had been asked ages ago and accepted, but now Gia wasn't sure about that, since Elizabeth had unpardonably dumped Lucky suddenly for some other man. Fortunately for Gia, this other man was not Jason Quartermaine, a couple which would have endlessly complicated Gia's wedding. Gia was stuck with inviting all of the Quartermaines.

Lucky said go ahead, he didn't care, if Gia and Elizabeth still wanted it. "I'm going to be Emily's date, and Elizabeth can even bring Doctor Witless with my blessing," he added. "I couldn't care less," he said, with less conviction than hurt pride.

Gia figured that was a pejorative name for Elizabeth's new man.

Later, Gia realized there were problems arising from the issue of inviting Zander's mother.

"You shouldn't have her here, along with Emily," Nicholas said.

"Why ever not?" Gia said. "Oksana owns our company. She's like my boss. She's been so good to us, that I can't possibly not invite her. Maybe she won't come, but I've got to invite her. Emily must be all over Zander by now. Didn't _she_ dump _him_? She never even knew his mother."

"I've seen that woman, and no way will Emily not recognize her," Nicholas said.

"What can we do?" Gia asked. "There will be many people there, and Emily will just have to bear it. It's not like she has to talk to her or anything. We can make sure they sit at different tables. We don't even have to try. Emily will be with the wedding party," she said, remembering that unfortunate fact.

"At any rate, Oksana doesn't have to be at the engagement party," Nicholas said.

Gia gave in on this, not wanting to argue about it, so long as she could invite Oksana for the wedding. The Engagement party finally consisted of her family, the Spencers and the Cassidines (the two sides of Nicholas' family); the Quartermaines, Marcus' girlfriend, Dara Jenson, Cheryl Shue, V. Ardanowski, and tentatively, Elizabeth Webber.

"Oh, you can replace me if you want," Elizabeth said when Gia called her. "I totally understand. It was all based on me being the girlfriend of Nicholas' brother, and since that isn't so any more, and you want to ask someone else, I understand."

"That isn't necessary," Gia said. "I don't have time at this point for a replacement, you count as a friend of Nicholas, and Lucky said he doesn't mind. You can even bring your date to the wedding."

"OK, if you're sure," Elizabeth answered. "I'll be glad to do it."

Jax next found that Alter Corporation owned the land under Kelly's and a second third of Barrington Corporation, which was now called "Barrington-Pex." "Now this Sergei guy controls Barrington," Jax fumed. "Now we really have to do something."

ELQ stock started falling the next day, when it appeared that Barrington-Pex had undercut them on dock facilities.

He tried to pump Jerry again, but got nowhere.

"I happened upon a chance to buy some stock in Alter Corporation," Jerry told Jax. "I can't tell you a thing. You understand. I have fiduciary duties to Alter Corporation."

Jax went away in total surprise. Usually he could get these things under control quickly. This came from left field, somehow.

He went off to V. Ardanowski's apartment. One of the rooms was the art studio he had furnished for her, believing she had talent. At times, her ear was well attuned to the ground. He has always found her to be admirably sensible.

"I don't know," she said, continuing with her painting. "I noticed the change in the name. Does it mean much?"

"It could," he said, looking at the painting. "Well, I'll be! You are an ambitious one, aren't you? A new version of Washington crossing the Delaware!"

"It's for fun. But why not? The same subject can have a new interpretation."

"Yes. I like how you have him sitting down. Probably, that is more realistic."

"I thought so. Did you know that the river is very narrow in this spot?"

"Oh really? So it wasn't a long trip."

"Nope. How do you know all of this, anyway, being from Australia?"

"I'm an American citizen, I'll have you know, and I had to study all this to become naturalized."

"Oh, good, I can consider you another authority. So you know all about the stealth attack on the Hessians?"

"Yep. I always admired old George Washington. Now, I'm more like one of the Hessians, though."

"You'll come out of it on your feet like you always do."

Zander didn't like to put anything up on the walls of Alexis' penthouse. He had no better place than the gate house. He called Quinn and asked her to come and pick out where his picture of Florida and Russia should go. She had two weekdays off, and came over on the first one. 

After considering every room in the house, the living room wall came out the winner. Zander vowed to get Diana or Rosa in with a nail and hammer.

"A mounting kit would be better," Quinn laughed. "Maybe delegate this job to Rosa."

"OK. Come up to the hall to listen to music."

"OK," she smiled.

You could tell he didn't live here. The CD played the same five whenever Quinn was there; four of Oksana's original ones and the Irish music. She tentatively concluded he was never there when she wasn't.

They cuddled up on the couch in the hall and looked at the photo album from Florida for a little while. "What did you do with those medals?" she asked.

"I have them in a drawer at Alexis' penthouse. I'm not sure what to do with them."

"A drawer there is good. So long as you look at them every once in awhile."

"OK, nurse."

"It's getting warmer. You can think about playing tennis."

"OK," he laughed. "I will join the country club."

She leaned over and kissed him, slowly. He kissed her back, and ran his hand all the way down her leg, to her feet, and took her shoe off. He flipped off her other shoe and went back up her leg to her lower back, when he started to kiss her again. She let him go on until he pushed her only far enough away to unbutton her blouse, which he did starting from the bottom. She liked how he was an mixture of considerate and aggressive all at once. It was a sort of thrill when the fundamental aggression starting coming out, but she could still feel safe.

Her shirt was loose enough she felt his hands on her bare back, a kind of touch she had not felt before from him, and she was felt all the electricity of it, until he suddenly stopped and just hugged her. 

She hugged him back, a little mystified.

"I'm so nervous," he said.

"You could have fooled me," she said. It was touching, though, she thought. She had never met any other guy she thought would ever have admitted it. "Besides," she said, reassuringly. "After all you've been involved in, you have no reason to be nervous with a little nurse!"

"You've been involved in real relationships. All my experience is scattered. Here and there. No real relationship. Not months or years like you with the same Paul or the shyster."

"Oh, those boring individuals. You being yourself is more than enough for any woman. These high school girls don't know what they gave up, that's all."

"That is a nice thing to say."

"It's true."

"Oh, I don't mean you're making it up. But a lot of people might keep that to themselves."

"So they would gain the upper hand, right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

She shifted so as to be able to lean his head back against her shoulder, and let him know it was all right.

"I get you, you know. I really do."

"Thank you," he laughed. She felt him relax.

"You have guts like I've never seen. I guess you can them from those people that can take these big risks that end up making them rich. The type with the guts to defect from a tyrannical regime and make it in a strange country."

"Thanks, Quinn. You make those two sound good."

"And they aren't all bad! You're theirs, so they can't be. I know why you feel so tentative though. And then there's Little Emily and her total love followed by sudden rejection. But I will keep hanging around until you are bored or else can trust me."

"I don't think you'd do things like that. You don't deserve even having to be compared to Little Emily. But I shouldn't even talk about her any more. It's not fair to you."

"On the contrary, I can learn from it. What makes you tick. What makes you nervous. You're afraid of wrecking my prom, if only figuratively, aren't you Zander? I wouldn't let you, anyway. You're fine. Everything is fine by me. So tell me, about how that feels, to wonder about it."

"I trust you not to do a sudden rejection. I really do, Quinn." 

"You head does. But in there, you feel like changing things brings on a 180."

"You know how painful that can be. What about Dr. Witless?"

"True," she laughed. "And it was a mild case, compared to what you got. I don't want to sound like Paul. I know I sound like Paul. In fact, he is the one with the theory it is hard for you to trust anyone after you mother moved you to that other house in Daytona, and after your father moved you to Moscow. Then Little Emily's sudden rejections, like her sudden, unexpected letter when you were in the hospital. You know, there is some theory that one is attracted to those who will treat them like their parents did. Something about what is familiar at least being something you have developed some strategy to handle."

"OK, Doctor Pauletta. That is interesting. I never realized that. I can see your parallel here, though."

"Did it feel the same?"

"Yes Doctor, I think it did. I never wanted to think about my parents, so I repressed it. Is that the right word? I'll run this by Dr. Baldwin. I repressed my parents, and thought it all arose with Emily. Now you're getting it, and that is why I say it isn't fair to you."

"I get you as you come. It's all right, Zander. Sander. Whatever your name is."

"Like that night she got the call about her grandfather being hurt. We went to the hospital. He wasn't hurt too bad. Even while we were there waiting, she was saying, that very night, she had said we were only waiting for the right time. We had been in the barn. We were always meeting in this barn. I always felt protective of her, she liked that. But she said she was serious, she really wanted to be with me, all that. Said. Back than, I didn't get it that words were one thing and deeds another."

"Didn't the farmer ever come in?"

He laughed a little. "No. Maybe it was an old abandoned farm of her family's or something."

"Were there any animals?"

"No. Hay, but no animals."

"Not even a horse?"

"No, Quinn, not even a horse."

"OK. But you felt safe that nobody was going to come in."

"She did. So I went with that, I guess. Dumb. I never thought to ask."

"OK, sorry, I'm getting you off of the track. What happened? That wasn't the night of her prom, so I take it nothing happened?"

"Oh, plenty happened. Plenty of drama. She said she wanted me. We were making love – in this barn. Well, this place was sort of sentimental by then. We'd talked there so much."

"OK."

"We didn't get too far, when her cell phone rang."

"So?"

"Well, she got up to answer it."

"She answered her cell phone?"

"Yes. It was somebody, I forget who, one of her family _members_, telling her of the attack upon her grandfather."

"Huh? She answered her _phone_?"

"It was ringing."

"OK, she forgot to turn it off. But it would have stopped ringing in a little while."

"I guess her family members might have panicked and looked for her. Maybe they knew something about this barn. But she must have thought they wouldn't show up there. Oh well, I don't know. She answered it. There was no question we had to go to the hospital right then, because her grandfather had been attacked and he was there."

"I can promise you this much. On the beach in Florida, there is no way I would have answered my cell phone. Had I taken it there. Or any phone. Even if I was expecting a call telling me I won the lottery."

"What if it was someone who was going to tell you the true solution to the Kennedy assassination?" He wanted to lighten it up for her.

"Who cares? For Paul, or Sean, I might have delayed a little for that. But not you."

He smiled. "Anyway, that very night, he got out of the hospital – we were relieved he wasn't hurt badly. As it turns out, he wasn't hurt at all. We all went to the police station. She talked, he talked, he dropped the charges. That very same night, we went back to that barn. She was quiet on the way. When we get back to the barn, instead of kissing me like I thought she would, she told me she never wanted to see me again, to leave her family _members_ alone, and – I'm sure I've bent your ear with this before."

"You really needed that," Quinn answered, sarcastic. "That is the worst thing that she could have done. She's too immature to have known it. If she had known you, she'd have known that was the worst things she could possibly have done!"

"Now I see how frivolous everything was. At the time, it was really tough." He stopped talking, swallowed hard. She could see that it was a bad memory. "I was alone, remember. She was everything. Really, that was too great a burden on her."

"Not to say she was doing it consciously, but it sounds to me like she was in love with love. She wanted to be cool, like she thought someone was when they had that experience. Be a girl who'd done it. Without waiting until she really did have the experience."

"Then she could have stuck with Juan. She was closer to it with him, when she first met me. I don't know. She did say there were other girls hanging around him. He's a big rock star, you know. Then he was a little rock star."

"Then she had to work for it, to compete with them. Why do that when she can have someone stuck in a situation like you were? And you felt guilty. That gave her a certain control."

"She was so nice to me, then. I really thought she did not love Juan, and she was falling in love with me. I was still a really guarded person then. I was not going to fall in love with her if I could help it. As time went on, it looked safe. Does that make sense? So she must have stayed consistent for awhile."

"It wouldn't take long for someone sitting in jail who thought he was never going to know anyone else that was even going to be nice to him for the indefinite future. I don't think she did it maliciously. But it looks so consistent with her general maturity level. You were easy and controllable, due to the situation and due to all that guilt – I sound like Paul again. Somehow, you ended up with a girl who would treat you like your parents did, in a parallel way; and one of the few women on earth who could not really want you. I cannot get over that she answered the cell phone!"

"It's nice of you to say there are only very few such women, but she didn't have competition."

"I don't mean to say anything false. It's my opinion. I see it is hard for you to believe. I don't want to be telling you this girl did not love you. But I really don't think she any more than thought she did. Or did only as much as she could, which was barely minimal. I'm convinced of it, and so I want to convince you the world is not always so unpredictable. You didn't know. You see it as the fake attack on the grandfather that crashed your romance at the time, but none of that story about her grandfather mattered in the least. It would have been something she would have dealt with after she had already been with you. That would have made a big difference to the way she saw it. If it had been me, I'd have been very sorry to find out that my grandfather got hurt, but I would not have even known until after I had been with you. And my grandfather is a much nicer guy than hers is. I would have ignored the cell phone! I wouldn't have heard it. And all of this goes for every other female on this planet."

"There is another piece of evidence for your theory, Nurse Question."

"What is it?"

"She was writing in her diary one day, awhile before that, I think. She let me read it. It said something like, 'oh, before today, I never realized what it really meant to be in love, to be like Elizabeth and Lucky.' She thought they were madly in love, too. The diary went something along the lines that now she had what Elizabeth had. She and I had what Lucky and Elizabeth had. So you may be right. In fact, you are. She was only competing with Elizabeth."

"Again, I don't think she meant it that way. The diary shows in fact that it is something unconscious. She could really use a lot of therapy, you know that?"

"Let's give her Dr. Dumbo's card next time we see her."

"Your head understands this is different. But in here, you're still insecure. I don't blame you. A lot of words can't do you any good. But this house would have to be on fire for me to get distracted from you. The other side could be on fire. The side we were in would have to be."

He hugged her again, and was quiet.

"And I do want you for yourself," she went on, "I understand you are hesitant to trust any woman, that makes perfect sense. I'm here for you; that's what I was put here for. The same as Joe needed a goddaughter or Danny and Kathleen needed a daughter or the hospital needed another nurse. But you figure into it too. Those are words, but I do have deeds to back that up."

"I know, Nurse Question. You helped me get really straightened out. _Really_ straightened up, not merely out of jail. I always need all this help. I wish I could be of some help to somebody else on occasion too."

"You are! What are you thinking! I needed to have fun. You've been great about that! Alexis has some stuff, oh, your idea about driving her around, wasn't it? You listen to people. That is all good. It doesn't have to be big, obvious things! You mostly needed help because you were cut off from your family. I'd have needed a lot more help if I had ever done that! When Dr. Dumbo dumped me for Elizabeth, you really cheered me up! Maybe it seems like little to you when your situations got so much more extreme."

"You could have replaced Dr. Dumb in a flash."

"I would probably have looked around, hung out with Joanna. By then, I could have gone out and hung out with V. or Alexis, too. We got to be friends while we were investigating you. I was determined not to get involved. So I would have dated this series of doctors, lawyers, cops, maybe even forensic detectives that I would have met through going out and through these various girlfriends. I had all those options and didn't take them. Instead I immediately went against my biggest determination at the time; not to get involved with any one guy."

"But I got picked only because I was not worth getting involved with."

"Oh, do you think that?" she turned and stroked his cheek, looking at him, concerned.

"No," he answered, turning his head, "not as mean as that sounded. I'm sorry."

"I only meant to find some way to reassure you. I know words aren't good, but I keep spilling out words." She reached up and kissed his lips. "There. Is that better? Maybe I'll shut up. I should definitely shut up."

She kissed him again. Encouraged by his letting her, she did it again, slower. She took off her unbuttoned shirt and tossed it. She said: "No way would I have answered that damned cell phone!"

He smiled, and then pulled her back towards him and unhooked her bar. "If you really will take me over a forensic detective," he said, kissing her neck.

"There's nothing you can do but risk it," she said. "Trust me."

"You mean it? It's not my Porsche?" he asked, his eyes dancing mischievously.

"I can't think of any man I rather be with than you; with your shifting first name, your false last name, your house you don't live in and your car you don't drive."

He laughed, then he started kissing her again. He stood up and pulled her up and kissed her again. He remembered how light she was, when he had picked her up on the beach. He leaned down and picked her up again and carried her into the bedroom.

Quinn woke up early, under a black quilt. No one had ever slept in the bedroom before. She looked over at Zander and smiled, then took him back into her arms, laying his head against her shoulder. He seemed to protest against this peremptory movement but never awoke enough to do anything, but cuddled up against her and fell back into a sound sleep.

She kissed his forehead, and relaxed, and had almost fallen back asleep herself, when the door downstairs, on the bedroom side of the house, opened suddenly.

This woke Zander up. She watched, amused while he tried to figure out where he was.

"Does someone else live here, too?" she asked, eyes twinkling.

"I bet it's Rosa. No, it's probably Diana, cleaning. I better go tell her to put that off," he jumped up. She laughed as he looked for his clothes. He managed to go down in jeans only, to whoever had come in.

Diana was in the study downstairs, carrying cleaning supplies, all right. She jumped when Zander came down the stairs.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said to her. Upstairs, Quinn giggled. You apologize to the maid, she thought.

"No, no, Mr. Sander, I thought - "

"I wasn't here, because I've never been here before. Don't say mister; that'll kill me, Diana."

"OK."

"You don't have to do this now. Put it off for later, OK?"

"OK," Diana said, backing out the door. She closed it, and took a deep breath.

"Start a day by having a heart attack," she muttered to herself.

"No matter what you say," Quinn said, "You are used to being a son of the aristocracy. You handle the servants very authoritatively."

"Yet I cannot even get you a cup of coffee," he said. "Wait, let me check. Oksana might have fixed all that up too. She's no slouch." He went off across the hall towards the kitchen.

Quinn laughed, stretched again, and leaned back against the pillows. She got a good look at this room for the first time. It was really very cool. The walls had this black and tan pattern, and so did the sheets. There was this state of the art looking TV and sound system there. "With a stereo right out there in the hallway!" she thought. "I can get used to this. Rich people! They think up conveniences we would never even think of!" The sunlight came in through one, very large window. It had a nice window seat. Tempted, she got up, using the sheet for clothes.

She was sitting looking out at the new leaves on the trees when he came back with two cups of coffee. "Told you," he said.

"Have a seat," she said, making room. "Thank you." They both sat there awhile, drinking the coffee and looking out the window.

Eventually, she leaned towards him. "You are really wonderful," she said, pushing his hair aside. "_Really_ wonderful."

"You are too," he said. "And beautiful. You would make a good painting right here in this window, too."

"Shall I call Elizabeth?"

"Oh, not just yet," he said, leaning over and kissing her.

"Are you going on any other trips to see history?" she asked.

"Yes, - oh, I should call Amanda. I'm late. Or am I even late? I don't even know what time it is."

"Me neither," she said. "Maybe that fancy stereo equipment knows."

"What is all this stuff?" he was up and looking at it. "There's a stereo set up the hallway about 10 feet away."

"That's what I thought. Rich people!"

"Yeah, even the gatekeeper has two stereos."

"There's a TV in here, too," she said.

"Yeah, I guess the living room is too far away," he observed.

He found the remote and flipped the television on, long enough to find out it was one minute until he was to meet Amanda. He went out to the hall to find his phone. Quinn listened to him talk to Amanda, smiling to herself. 

"Canceled school today," he came back. "She's planning a trip to Philadelphia, instead. Let me take you out for breakfast. You must be hungry, and Oksana's not _that_ organized. This house has only coffee and liquor. And I'm not calling up to the main house."

"OK, I'll meet you at Kelly's in an hour," she said, picking her blouse up off of the floor."

"No, no. The Port Charles Grill," he said. "The top of the line only for you, Nurse."


	93. Chapter 93

**Part 93**

There was a Board meeting of Alter Corporation at the Outback, in the small room for parties, right behind the bar. Alexis was there to observe and give general advice; she was corporate counsel. The board was made up of Sergei, Jerry Jax, Luke Spencer and his sister Bobbie Spencer.

They talked about putting an upper deck on the Outback, "Let's call it the 'Wallaby Room,'" Luke suggested. The board agreed to this name unanimously.

Then the board discussed improvements that could be done to the basement in Kelly's – a coffee house with music was the favored project. 

Later, at the hospital, Bobbie enthusiastically told Monica all about it. "One day, everything was as it was. Suddenly I am on the Board of Directors of Alter Corporation. A big honcho. Luke and I are really excited. There seems to be so many interesting things to do! And we thought of these businesses as go-nowhere ones, that barely held on to making a slim profit!"

"You're my best friend!" Monica fumed, "and here you are in the middle of this! That corporation owns part of another corporation that is moving in on ELQ in the sneakiest way!"

"Heck, I had no idea," Bobbie said. "But it's such a good deal. We can expand Kelly's. They came up with this idea to put the bar and Kelly's into one corporation. So in those times when one of the businesses is losing money, the other picks up for it. It's such a great idea; I wish we had thought of it years ago. We also have the chance to expand Kelly's into the basement. We're going to put a coffeehouse down there," she said. "It will be open at night and have music. Maybe Ned can do something there," she suggested, hoping to mollify her friend.

"How one guy can create so much upheaval in a town," Monica said, "is beyond me. I don't really care for myself and Alan, but we're stuck listening to Edward's steam! This is Zander's father, and that's probably why he's doing it."

"You know Luke had that falling out with Sonny," Bobbie said. "So he thinks this is a real blast. A lot of it will interfere with Sonny's hold over his so-called territory. To Luke, Alter Corporation is like a big party, and he's running here and there to help get things in order. Revitalizing the whole town, he says. This Sergei is his favorite person. Oksana is already Laura's."

"Oksana, what's she doing?" Monica asked.

"She went in with Laura on Deception," Bobbie said, "Now it's expanding, going public, and everything is looking up. Sonny is out of it, so that does away with all kinds of problems."

"Goodness," Monica said. "That Zander! His heart skips a few beats, and here we are. As if he wasn't enough trouble on his own!"  
Alexis and Zander visited Deception one afternoon. Alexis had some papers for Oksana and Laura, and she wanted Oksana to show her son some of what she did.

Oksana liked this. She showed Zander some of the books, and explained how the investments worked, how the government got involved, who and how decided what they needed and bought it, and how they advertised and distributed their own product.

Alexis added comments where she thought it would help.

"You can do anything, and try different things," Oksana told Zander. "That is what is fun about doing things this way. Start with one thing, like our sporting goods store. Then go from that to a thing related, and you the more you spread out the less risk there is. If one thing goes downhill for awhile, another is picking up."

"Thanks, but I think I'll find a respectable profession to go into," he said. 

"We'll see," Alexis said, with a wry smile, glancing at Oksana.

Oksana and Alexis introduced Zander to Laura, who said she was very glad to meet him, and showed him how the whole office was laid out. They ran into Cheryl, and when Laura saw that they knew each other, she asked Cheryl to show him the photo studio, thinking it no harm to do a little minor matchmaking between two fine looking young people.

"I'm glad you have your mom back," Cheryl said, as they walked into the studio. "She's the best to work for, anyway. And your dad. Whatever they did before, it looks like you're doing well now."

"Yes, thank you. How did it turn out with your parents, by the way?"

"After all that, would you believe they got back together?"

"Wow. Are you glad?"

"Yes. The woman my father was seeing dropped him. The only thing that makes me nervous is him taking up with someone else like that. He hasn't, as far as I can tell."

"That's great, Cheryl."

"How did your parents end up here?"

"Well, remember how I was in the hospital? The doctor needed my medical history. Alexis, the lawyer I work for, you know her know, right? I had known her for awhile, and to make it as short a story as possible, it comes down to that she found my parents by looking for me in the missing persons records. My mother realized someone from here was looking for me and showed up here, then my little brother came up. Then Alexis contacted my father and he came up eventually. They gave the whole medical history to the doctors. Then my mother decides to move herself and my brother up here. My father has nobody in Daytona, and he seems to be hanging around here more instead. The really big miracle is that my mother agrees to let my father see my brother, at least, so long as someone else is around."

"Yes, I could see that by your birthday party. That's really good isn't it? That's what they were fighting over. Is he the one who took you out of the country, then? I remember you had a hard time with that."

"It was. What did I tell you?"

"Never to let one of my parents take me out of the country without an American passport! You were quite adamant about that!"

"It was hard to get back in when I was over in Moscow without it. He had us there with him a couple of years, and when Mom finally found us, then she wanted us to go back. That started a whole bunch of trips to the consul - that's a guy who works for the State Department and decides who can go from whichever country he works in to the States. It took a lot of work to prove to him Pete and I were citizens."

"Then when you got back, they put your Dad in jail?"

"He followed us back, yeah, and then got arrested, because the whole move violated the custody order."

"I'm sorry all that happened. Makes my story sound like a little tempest in a teapot."

"It was tough for you, too. I remember how upset you were."

"Eventually it got to be less of a problem. My father cooperated more with my schedule when he realized I was only doing things everyone else did. He had to get used to it. But I'm glad you're brother is not so torn between them as you and he used to be."

"Yes, it's a really good thing. Pete is going to do OK, I think."

"You are too, Zander. Now you've got a job, and getting your education straightened out. And when Quinn was here with Alexis asking me what I knew about you, I asked her if we switched boyfriends, and she said no, you were her patient. So now it is true we did switch boyfriends."

"Well, now that you're happy with her old boyfriend, don't switch again, OK?"

"Oh no! I'm sure Quinn would never agree to that either!"

Around 7 p.m. on the swing shift, Quinn was lining up some bottles in the supply closet, when Zander came in. "Found you," he said, reaching out to take her into his arms. After getting a kiss, she pulled her extra apartment key from her pocket.

"There you go," she said. "Go to sleep for a few hours before I get there; that's the deal, right? You get up awfully early. Can't have you staying up past midnight to talk to me."

"Yes nurse," he said. He let her put her key into his jacket pocket.

"See, the swing shift isn't all bad," she said, smiling up at him. He kissed her again, and they were still kissing when Joanna came in.

"You better take good care of her," Joanna said. "After all she took care of you."

"For sure, Joanna," he answered. "It is her turn now."

"Don't be silly, that was work," Quinn said. "See you later, Zander. Get some sleep. Don't forget."

"I won't," he laughed, pulling her pony-tail. "But you wake me up. That is part of the deal too."

"You're so cute when you are asleep."

"Wake me up, or else!"

"Oh, I will. You're cute when you're awake, too! And you do some amazing things," she said, in an undertone.

Quinn went back to what she had been doing, humming a little bit.

"So we can say this is going very well?" Joanna asked.

Quinn smiled. "We could say that."

"My, you're in a good mood! I never saw you in that good a mood on account of Paul! But are you Zander's lover, or his mother? What is all that lecturing about sleep?"

"I'm a lover who's considerate. He gets up really early to study with the tutor. I'll get back a little after midnight. I want him to get some sleep - at least a couple of hours - before I get back. It's not ideal for a good night's sleep, though. Splitting it up like that."

"He's young," Joanna said, "he'll handle it."

"Yeah," Quinn said, looking off, "he will."

"Sounds like he's making you happy. Still, it must be very different when you're used to being with someone ten years older than he is."

"Hmmmm?" Quinn asked. "Oh, Paul. Yeah, ten years older. But not nearly as good in bed. Not a tenth. Isn't that what you're pumping to know about?" she asked, mischievously.

"Of course that's what I'm pumping to know about! So thank you for answering, Miss Prim! But come on. I know we will always want to think the guy we have now is better than the guy we don't have any more. I'm hoping Glen will prove to be better than Charlie in every way. Still, you have such a difference here. Now _you're_ the one more experienced, and you've been with a guy _way_ more experienced."

"Experience doesn't matter. You can have years of dull experience. It's the personality that matters."

"How do you mean?"

"Some guys think too much. Now, Zander, he doesn't think. He goes on guts, or instinct, or whatever you want to call it. Fundamentally, he is so sure of himself. "

"That's what AJ and the others are forever criticizing him for."

"They're not thinking of this."

Joanna laughed. "I guess they wouldn't be. So you're saying this trait has an up side?"

"Boy, does it ever!"

"Crazy. Yet it can be a disaster otherwise. Look where his impulsive acts get him to."

"I think the answer may be keep him in the right situation. He was so good at sports, for instance. Something where you decide what you want to do so quick it is instinct rather than planning. He could go into sports or something like that. Or business, maybe that is what it takes, because his parents function OK there. He's like them, really. Don't tell him I said that."

"OK," Joanna laughed. "Already thinking of his future, I see."

"Not to tell him what to do. It's only ideas! Anybody could help him with that."

"Yeah," Joanna said. "Well, I hope Glen turns out to be better than Charlie."

"What does Glen do?"

"He's a real estate agent."

"A real estate agent?"

"Not exciting, but not a bad thing to be, either. He is an extrovert. Makes him a natural to sell houses."

"So he's still pestering you, or did you let him stay over?"

"No, but he still pesters, as you put it!"

"If he can't wait until the right time then - you might think about forgetting about him and going back to circling around the village square."

"Well, you're not going to circle with me, I can see that!"

Quinn found Zander asleep on her couch. She wondered if he had happened to fall asleep there, or if he didn't trust her to wake him up if he was already asleep in her bed.

She went and took a shower, and in her bathrobe went to poured him a glass of vodka, from a bottle that Oksana had given her for Christmas. She took a sip herself, then knelt down. "Wake up, Zander," she said. "Wake up, Sander. Sandy, wake up."

This and a little shaking got his eyes to flutter, then open. "Hi beautiful," he said, smiling a bit, then closing his eyes again.

"Going to sleep again, I see," she said.

"No," he said, "no way." He sat up, shaking himself awake a little more.

She sat down next to him, and gave him the glass.

He took a drink, looked at the glass, then asked, "do you turn Russian while I turn Irish?"

She laughed. "Yes, and at the same rate."

He put down the glass, then massaged her bare neck and shoulders, pulling her bathrobe off.

"That's nice, after a long shift at work," she said.

"Do you have any stress-inducing patients?"

"Not right now," she said. "Not at the hospital, anyway."

"Smart aleck," he said, kissing her neck, and then her shoulders and then her back, pushing her hair aside.

Eventually, she turned and ran her hands through his hair and down his neck. "You are dressed and I am not!" she exclaimed. "Is this fair?"

"No," he answered. 

"Come on," she answered, getting up and taking his hand.

When she got him back to her bedroom, she took off everything he was wearing, between kisses. He amused her with a passive cooperation. When she was done with this, however, all the passivity disappeared. She giggled as he quickly pushed her onto her own bed, then pretended to pin her down as if she had been wrestling against him.

"Is this an athletic contest?" she asked, eyes twinkling.

"I'll let you win if you want," he said. 

"I can see no way to lose it," she answered, and she put her hands to his face and pulled him down towards her to kiss him.

Later, she set the alarm for him.

"Two in the morning," she said, "See, you had to get some sleep earlier."

"Yes, with you distracting me the way you do," he was lying on his side, next to her, one arm around her and the other stroking her arm.

"Do you like my apartment? Paul would never come over here."

"Of course. Why wouldn't he come over here?"

"He always wanted to go to his house. He thought this place was small and dreary."

"I don't think it is. He's strange."

She giggled. "It's better than a barn."

"That's true. There's lots of room in a barn. But hay and straw are not as comfortable as this bed."

In the morning, she woke up at his alarm. When he was ready to go to school/work, he stopped to kiss her. She lay back against her pillow, her arm above her head. "Are you comfortable here, Sandy?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then keep your extra key and come back tonight."

He kissed her again. "I'll see you tonight," he said. He touched her face for a second, then left.

AJ was at the courthouse, trying to get a copy of the orders that had put Carly in Ferncliff. He wanted to have a complete file on her to use when she got out. He felt sure she would be getting out someday and would instantly try to get custody of Michael.

Everyone assured him no court would ever grant her more than intensely supervised visitation, with her history. But AJ knew Carly was crazy enough to try, and that she would believe she had a right to get her son back and to have AJ, his father, excluded totally, no matter what she, his mother, had done. It appeared to AJ that one who could call herself a child's "mother" had all the rights to raise a child, while the one who was nothing but the "father" could do nothing unless the "mother" allowed him to.

Zander came into the clerk's office to file papers for Alexis. He saw AJ and greeted him warily, but AJ was friendlier than he normally was.

"I'm trying to get copies of the orders the court made on Carly," AJ violated. "My lawyer says I should have these records. But hey, Zander, I was talking to Quinn Connor one day, and she told me your father had been in jail for moving you out of the country."

"Yeah, Dad is a criminal, just like me."

"For violating a custody order, though."

"Right. I'm sure you'll get Carly on that one day."

"I don't know, but it was hard to stick to the order even without her trying to kidnap Michael like that. I never thought she would do that, since Sonny has all his influence right here. He has someplace in the Caribbean that he hides at from time to time, but there's not enough action for him there – he ends up back here every time. Sonny could leave her, though. I think about having my son see Carly; some people say he should see her anyway, as long as we are careful. I thought about talking to the shrinks to see if they think we should take him to Ferncliff."

"That's a good idea," Zander said, becoming a little friendlier. "Whatever my parents did, at least they weren't shooting at each other. This is more serious."

"Yeah. I talked to my mother's friend Gail Baldwin. She's a shrink. She said no matter what, it is not cool to say negative things about Carly in front of Michael, regardless of what she's done, because he's half her, so to speak, and we can't denounce Carly without Michael thinking he is being attacked too; even if we tell him he is different, he won't understand it on the inside. And that we had better be careful about running our mouths, because kids are always listening when you think they aren't. Now he's not old enough to understand, but he will be before long, and we've got to train ourselves not to talk. In my family, that is a hard training, I'm sure you realize that."

"Yes. And denouncing people is what they do best."

"You know all about that. Did your parents say stuff to you about the other, that was critical?"

"I overhead them fighting now and then, and every once in a while they would say something. It was what they did that was most critical. I was too young to understand. I only knew the other wasn't good enough to see their own children, from what they did to the other. Those two are really big on competing with each other, or they were. Trying to beat each other in some imaginary game. I don't know if you were. You might have been. Carly stepped way out of the bounds by shooting at you."

"Hey, I'm sorry you got hit in this crossfire, Zander. Really. I wouldn't have wished you to get shot in a million years, no matter what else I ever said about you before."

"Doesn't matter now."

"OK, well, take it easy, now, OK?"

"Goodbye," Zander said, to AJ's retreating form.


	94. Chapter 94

**Part 94**

The Connors rented a van big enough to fit everyone in for the drive to Gettysburg. It would take about seven hours to get there, and Kathleen said it would be more fun if everyone could go in one vehicle, and that it would obviously be more comfortable if that one vehicle was one that eight people could ride in.

They left early in the morning, so as to get there in the middle of the afternoon.

Kathleen asked Zander about the trip he had taken to Philadelphia, with Amanda. "Did that one help you?" she asked.

"Yes. I really liked seeing that State House, where the meetings of the Continental Congress were. We saw Benjamin Franklin's house, and the Liberty Bell. We took a drive to this place called Washington's Crossing. It was really narrow right there, the Delaware River. We went out to Valley Forge, and they had replicas of the huts the soldiers stayed in.

"Now we're going to a Civil War Battlefield," Kathleen said. "Do you know when that was, Zander?"

"1860?"

"Good. That is when the war started. Gettysburg is the field for the famous battle that happened in 1863. It was the furthest north that the Confederate Army ever got. Where Lincoln made his famous speech."

At the battlefield, there was plenty of space to walk around in. There were markers to tell of what had happened in each place, and monuments to various regiments, erected later. The spot where Lincoln had given the Gettysburg Address was marked out.

"Can you see him there, speaking?" Quinn asked Zander, as they stood there.

"I can even hear the speech," he said.

"Get his Kentucky accent," she said, imitating one.

"Is that where he was from?"

"Sure, I saw his birthplace. With Shyster Sean. When I visited him and his family in Kentucky. But you went to school in the US up until the 8th grade at least, right? You must have learned something."

"I don't think he can remember many of the specific facts, from that era," Kathleen said.

"I don't remember this. I remember from school in Russia, actually, that he was from Illinois."

"Lincoln was from there, too," Kathleen said. "He was only born in Kentucky, and was not very old when his family moved to Indiana. There's a site there, Lincoln's boyhood home. We've taken the kids there on the way back from Indy. Then as an adult, as a lawyer, he lived in Illinois. So you remember right."

The battle lasted three days, the first three days of July. There were different sites where different things had happened. Monuments were scattered all over, erected later by the states the regiments had come from.

At one place called "Little Round Top," Pete and Tim climbed onto a cannon. Brad pretended to be cleaning it.

"It would be terrible to be in this battle," Tim observed. reading some of the details from the guide book. "Wars suck."

"They do," Joe said. "Korea sure did. Though we didn't have such a delicate way of putting it at the time."

"I would get killed so fast," Zander said, vaguely seeing himself trying to fight on Cemetery Ridge in the Battle of Gettysburg. "People always tell me I act without thinking. You'd have to be really on your toes and thinking all the time not to get killed in a battle like this."

"You're trained ahead of time," Joe said. "And you do have to go on your gut instincts. But they are properly trained to respond."

"Probably a lot like playing tennis," Quinn put in. "You don't think about each move as you're doing it, right? That's how it was with cheerleading. You got so you knew the moves so well, you were no longer thinking about them one by one. You, Zander, in fact, are good at those things. You'd be good at things that require you to act without thinking."

He looked down at her. "That is a nice thing to say. I've never heard it put in a positive light like that, before, Quinn. I always got the impression nothing requires that. Nobody needs that. And I was always doing it."

"Where he's trained, that is," Kathleen said. "He can act quickly - but it turns out badly if he's not and acts on too little knowledge. That's why we are educating this gut," she laughed, giving him a playful punch in the stomach, "so when he acts on it, the underlying information is sound."

"I like that," Quinn said, looking at Zander. "I like his knowing he's going to do better the more he learns."

"He learns well," Kathleen said.

"Thank you for that encouragement. I'm not used to it. My old boss told me I never learn. And I'm pretty sure a Quartermaine or two has told me that, too."

"They are wrong," Kathleen said. "What kind of a name is Quartermaine? Doesn't it sound rather English?"

Zander laughed. It was a nice laugh. Quinn felt good he was amused.

But she couldn't understand the quality of what he felt, a happiness he had not felt before.

"It sounds like a nautical term," Joe said. "Like their ancestor was the guy who had to man that part of the topsails on a sailing ship."

"Surely they are goddamnenglish," Danny said.

"Excuse his language," Joe said, "He's becoming like my grandmother; God rest her soul. To her, goddamnenglish was all one word."

Pete sang: "God's curse on you English, you cold hearted monsters."

Zander joined him for the second line. "Your deeds they would shame all the devils in hell."

"They are getting better and better trained every day," Danny remarked.

"Hey Mom, you have your camera. Would you take a picture of Zander and I?" Quinn asked.

"OK, Go up there - no, a little further down. By those rocks."

"Now get one of Zander and Pete."

Pete jumped up with alacrity, put his arm around Zander's shoulder and put on a picture-smile.

They were to stay overnight at a motel, since the drive was so long. They had four rooms on the second floor, all coming out onto the same balcony, at various distances up and down the length of the motel. 

The four boys had a room, Danny and Kathleen had a room, Joe had one, and Quinn had one.

Zander walked down to Quinn's room to visit her.

"Sometimes it is nice to be the only girl," she said. "I get my own room. You've got three roommates."

"Yeah, it's wonderful to know I get to spend the night with those three."

Quinn laughed. "Come sit on this bed with me awhile." He sat down and put his arm around her. She cuddled up next to him.

"I like my job," she said, "but sometimes it is nice to get away from the ICU and hang out near a real battlefield."

"Do you ever think of doing other types of nursing?"

"Every once in awhile. I wonder how it is in wards where the problems are less serious. They can be serious anywhere, but all the ICU cases are. They say it is a step down from emergency. Some people like to work emergency, but it's too much crisis for me. People go in and out. I like the slower pace where you know the patient for a longer time. Which you know about."

"Your patients probably all remember you. I mean, from being in the hospital only."

"Good point. I like that. Think of the emergency people, the patients may not even ever have been aware of them. But what would bother me is that I would never know them. Those that don't make it die right there – people I don't even know! The ones that go on to be admitted to the hospital – I wouldn't know what became of them. The emergency nurses can't follow up like we can. New emergencies are constantly coming in!"

"I think it would be hard to deal with sick people all day. Or injured. You're not seeing people at their best, that's for sure."

"Joanna dates this real estate agent. He maybe gets to see people when they are happy. They have the money to buy a house! They must be pumped up!"

"It must be nice to be Jerry, or somebody who owns a restaurant. People are going out. They want to have a good time."

"Being a teacher must be in the middle. The people don't think they are having a good time when they come there. But they are young, and funny. Mom tells funny stories about things kids do in school. Then there is being a tutor – that would depend on your one student. If the student's mother can fly you both around, though, that's got to be pretty nice. And the student is a good looking young man. Yep," she laughed. "Amanda has the best job of anybody."

"It's not bad, when you think of it. Of course, we might want to ask her. Maybe the student is an airhead."

"I happen to know he's not! Mom was asking you about Philadelphia, but I never got to ask you about Monticello. Did you like that?"

"I did. It is really interesting. Thomas Jefferson, he did everything. Designed the house. Designed clever things for it. Collected information on local plants. He had a garden that was a museum by itself. Have you ever been there?"

"No."

"You'd like the house. One thing it has: a porch that is shaped like three sides of a square, one side goes along the back, the other two are walkways out to two little houses – both two stories. Sort of the opposite of the gate house – the two small houses aren't connected to each other but to the main house, each one."

"Cool. What were they used for?"

"A guest house. A study."

"That's perfect for a guest house. They're with you, but not with you. Clever."

"He was clever."

"How is Thomas Jefferson, by the way?"

"Still dead. His grave was there. It was a big monument. It's amazing he isn't buried under the capitol rotunda, or someplace like that. He was so important to the existence of the system. I guess that's it. It's the system, not the person. In Russia, it's more the person, that explains why Lenin is preserved there in Red Square."

"Preserved? Like a mummy?"

"Must be. You can look right at him."

"Look right at him! Weird! When did he die?"

"Back in the twenties, I think. We didn't study that era so much there. They were into everything but that, they had only then gotten rid of it. People would talk about how he should be taken out of there and buried under the wall like the rest of the leaders were. Allowed to be like normal dead people."

"Did you see this?"

"Yeah. Dad said they took him as a child, and it was a big deal, and you had to be quiet and awed and all that. He thought it was insane, even then. And had to keep that totally to himself. When he was with us there, Dad was free to say what he thought about it."

"And what was that?"

"Pretty much what I bet you think of it! Crazy. Stupid! Bury the guy under the wall, and he was a damned tyrant and all that. Kind of like all the English wrapped up in one."

"Does he look life-like? Did you see it?"

"Yes, by then you could go in without it being a big deal, and people from all over the world would go through, curious. He looks like he is asleep, and in ill health."

"He's been there like that, what seventy and more years! I wonder what chemicals they used! Or do they maintain him! Ugh! What a thought! The temperature has to be kept at a certain level. Good thing it's cold there naturally!"

"Right up your ally, nurse. I will take you there someday. In fact, I better do it before they take him out and bury him under the wall. Of course, you'll be asking the attendants 3000 questions. They will all remember you too. Remember, that day, Boris, when that American nurse asked us so many questions! I wanted to bury Lenin right then! I was about to break the glass and do it!"

"Poor Boris. He doesn't know what he is in for." She leaned up to kiss him.

"Thank you for taking a picture with me," she said.

"I'm glad you want one," he said.

She walked him to the door. He kissed her good night a few times. "Good night, Quinn," he said, and took her hand, not letting go until her outstretched arm wasn't long enough.

The boys were throwing various things at one another. They turned on the TV and changed channels, making fun of the people who appeared on each one they stopped on long enough to notice anything going on. Zander felt like an adult, and the only one in the room to boot. He had an urge to tell them to be quiet and go to sleep. He wondered what was happening to him.

Danny came by the room and shut off the TV, and told them to go to sleep. Zander looked at him gratefully. Danny smiled as if he understood him.

Soon Tim, Brad and Pete were sound asleep.

Zander couldn't sleep. He started to feel fidgety. He thought he might bother Pete, who was sleeping in the same bed, so he got up and went out to the balcony to get some air.

It was nice out there. Calm, and dark, as it is in the middle of the night. The motel at that moment felt like the hospital on the midnight shift. Full of people, but lonely, because they were all quiet.

He heard a door open, and looked down the walkway.

It was Quinn, who had come out, more or less the same as he had.

He watched her lean against the railing and look up at the sky for a few seconds. He whistled long and low, so as not to startle her too much. She looked in his direction. When she saw him, she laughed.

He walked down to her. "I don't think there is any woman nearly as beautiful as you."

She put her arms around him.

"I miss you. I mean, you have to sleep in a room about, oh, 30 yards away. It's terrible."

"I know. I can't feel that sorry for you though. You don't have three really immature roommates."

"That's true."

She hugged him for awhile. "Do you think, if Oksana had this trip, she would put you in a room with them? Or would she put you in a room with me?"

"I don't know. I really don't. Especially since I'm 21 now. I guess I wasn't with either of them when I was old enough for that to happen."

"I wondered if having no religion made a difference."

"Is it religion?" he asked. "It's a rule?"

She smiled. "Absolutely, to the religion, but as to my family, I don't know. It is partly social custom, too. I think they know what the rules are, they taught me what the rules are, but I don't really officially know if they expect me to abide by them. I think they don't. They could easily have put me in with them. I'm surprised they didn't do it to save a few bucks. And that would be the motive. So maybe they sort of wink at this kind of rule." 

"So I am in with my roommates as a concession to appearances."

"Sure. Maybe. I'm not totally sure."

"You have me curious. I would like to ask Oksana to take us on a similar trip, and then see what she does."

She laughed. They kissed and held each other tighter and tighter. Quinn said, "Come in, I don't have roommates."

There was something about the middle of the night and the hint of being forbidden, somehow, because her family had set up the rooms the way they had, and knowing for appearance sake that he had to get back into the other room before sunrise, that created an extra charge of electricity. The rest of the world seemed excluded from ever knowing anything like this; Quinn felt like she was on fire; she made love to him with a wildness she didn't think she had in her. She had thought he was wild and intense; she felt like she had caught it from him that night.

"You are the best," Quinn said, pushing his hair out of his face. "The most passionate, exciting. I feel all wired and charged up when I'm in bed with you."

"That's how I think of you."

"Really?"

"Really. I haven't known you the longest, but I know you better than anyone. And there's still a lot I don't know, and I want to find it all out." 

"Yeah," she ran her hand along his cheek bone, lazily, "Me too."

She helped him with the pajamas he'd had on, when he had come out onto the balcony. He put them back on, and opened the door. The night was cool and silent. They stood there a moment, enjoying the quiet and the presence of each other, hugging close. She smiled when he wanted her to close the door and she wouldn't. "I'll close mine when your close the one to your dorm room," she said. She let him walk up to the other room, open the door, then wave down to her to close hers. It was a game to see who would shut the door last, and Quinn finally shut hers, smiling. She went back to bed and fell into a deep sleep.

The van was going along through the Pennsylvania mountains, back up to western New York.

Tim started reading something from a guide book about civil war women, and how the camp followers were often prostitutes. He declared that the book said that most of the nurses following the army doubled at the latter profession.

"They might have been the only women the army saw, over the course of months," Danny said.

"That's what is says here," Pete said, reading over Tim's arm.

"Well, our Quinn would have been a nurse," Kathleen said, "Guess the job was a lot more demanding in those days."

"She is loyal patriot of her country," Tim answered, "And would not have shirked any duty."

Quinn took the newspaper, which they had obtained to read the motor racing results, folded it up and whacked Tim on the head with it. Tim only laughed.

"Do you know what the Russian word for brother is?" Zander asked her. "You'll love it."

"Tell me."

"_Brat._ That's how you pronounce it. Brat."

"Crazy language," Tim said.

"It's a good language, brat," Quinn said. "The most accurate language in the world."

They were quiet awhile, looking at the scenery. Peter and Tim got to talking about baseball. They had gotten onto the Mercy High School Team.

"I wish you could play something," Quinn said to Zander.

"Tennis, he plays," Pete said, overhearing. "He has played over the house, against me, and I was beating him at first, which seemed like a miracle. Then he started to get it back, and keeps getting it back so he is getting closer to normal. Normal for him. Now he beats me soundly every time."

"Do you like tennis still?" Quinn asked Zander, "You had a lot of those medals in that."

"Yes. It clears my mind."

"You need more and better opponents," Pete said.

"I know. You are wretched."

"Now this term brat does notes apply only to little brothers, Q.," Pete said. "It applies to older ones also."

"I see that!" Quinn laughed. "Where can he find better opponents?"

"Maybe at the university?" Pete asked. "Or a country club? Maybe there's a league."

"There must be. Maybe there are some other people out there who need to get beat," Quinn said, passing her hand down Zander's arm, "and if you want to, you can be the one to do it. For fun. Something you can do well without having to do all that thinking first."

"Yeah, all that dumb thinking," Zander smiled and leaned his forehead against hers. "Who needs it?"

Nicholas and Gia's engagement party was at their house; one they had started living in together as contentious roommates, but which had eventually become their joint residence. The house had seen them getting to know each other, becoming friends, falling in love and deciding they wanted to be husband and wife. For sentimental reasons, if nothing else, it was to become the first home of their marriage.

Gia had decorated the place herself, and picked out some good caterers. She put music on, and danced around the living room a bit, happy that everything was starting to be in train for their wedding, and finished with the work and preparations for the party, able to start to relax and have a good time.

Nicholas took her hand and danced with her a little, then hugged her close and kissed her. She smiled happily. The doorbell rang.

"Someone's here!" she said. "Do you want me to get it or do you want to?"

"Why, we'll both get it," he answered, smiling. "It's our house."

"I love you," she said, "let's go see who is here first."

It was Alexis. Gia welcomed her warmly, relieved that the first guest wasn't a Quartermaine. It would be better if they arrived when there were many pleasant people there already to dilute their entrance and presence.

Gia showed her aunt-to-be around the house, pointing out improvements and decorations, and then went with her to get her a drink. The doorbell rang again, and on account of this business, Nicholas went to get the door on his own.

Gia looked up to see it was Cheryl Shue and her boyfriend Scott. These two came down as Gia invited them over and asked them what they would drink. Cheryl introduced Scott to Alexis. 

Alexis asked him what he did. He was an assistant manager at ELQ. "I'm impressed," Alexis said. "You look so young."

Lucky came in next; alone, saying his parents were almost there. Nicholas' father and uncle showed up soon after that. Gia blessed her luck. By the time the Quartermaines got there, they would hardly need noticing.

Soon her mother was there, and Marcus and Dara arrived soon after. V. came with them. Elizabeth Webber came with Dr. Paul Whitman. Gia was quite courteous to these two; her good mood and happiness overshadowed everything else. Dr. Whitman was handsome and very pleasant, and Gia found she liked him. He even seemed to cause an improvement, if slight, in Elizabeth's personality.

When Gia saw the Quartermaines come in, the room was crowded with talking guests. Nicholas ran up to them immediately. Gia let him handle them. She noticed Jasper Jax came in soon afterward.

"Cheer up, Emily," AJ said. "It's a party, after all. We don't have to stay long."

"I know," she said. "I don't feel like I belong so much, anymore. All the time that I've been at school, I guess, makes things different. Strange how you think things aren't changing when you are not there. It is strange to see Elizabeth with someone we barely know, for example, and avoiding Lucky."

"Here, have my car keys," AJ said. "You can stay as long as you want, but you know you can go whenever you want, too."

"Thanks, AJ, you're the best."

AJ saw V. and Jax and told Emily he was going to go and talk to them for a bit.

"I'm glad you made it home in time for the party, Emily," Lucky said, coming upon her. "You look good. How is school going?"

"OK," she said. "I got a part time job at a law firm. But my grades aren't real good."

"That will improve. You were first in your high school class."

"College isn't high school."

"Yeah. And you're not at PCU; you're at a real university."

"PCU is OK," she said. "You graduated from PCU. How can you say that?"

"Well, I graduated from there, but I know it's not Harvard."

"How are things at Deception?"

"Great. Really looking up. We're busier than ever. We got rid of Sonny, you know."

"Oh, and got Zander's mother."

"I'm sorry, Emily. I didn't mean to bring him up."

"You didn't. "

"Do you have another boyfriend at school? I bet you do."

"No."

"Have you seen Vinnie?"

"No, hardly at all. I have my job, and classes. I rarely run into him, and when I do, I don't talk to him."

"Don't let that get you down. There are nice guys in the world. You have really had exceptionally bad luck, that's all. Don't think all guys are like Vinnie and Zander."

"I'll try not to. I know you, for one. What happened with Elizabeth?"

"As you can see, everything's the same," he answered, indicating Elizabeth and Paul, several feet away but visible from where Lucky and Emily were. Elizabeth was holding a glass of wine in one hand and had her other arm around Paul, while she whispered something to him. He put his arm around her waist and smiled broadly. Elizabeth took a drink and leaned against Paul a little more.

"Let me go and get you a drink," Lucky said, heading off Emily's inevitable sympathy comments. He went and got her a glass of wine. "Thanks" she said, taking a sip.

Nicholas tapped a glass to that everyone would give him their attention. He and Gia had prepared a little speech thanking the wedding party for being in the wedding. He described Elizabeth and Emily as his friends, Lucky as his best friend and brother, and Stefan as his closest friend and uncle. He said he looked forward to having Marcus as his brother-in-law. He thanked Jasper Jax for being one of his ushers. 

Gia thanked Elizabeth and Emily for being such good friends to Nicholas, and for caring enough for him to be her bridesmaids. She mentioned V. as a good friend to Marcus, her brother, and for being a friend to her and being her bridesmaid. She described Cheryl as being as wonderful and kind as she was beautiful and added that she was honored to have Cheryl as her maid of honor. She said she couldn't wait to have Lucky as her brother-in-law, and Stefan as her uncle, and thanked her brother Marcus, and Nicholas, for being such a wonderful fiancé as to have her beloved brother as one of his ushers. She thanked Jasper Jax for being in the wedding.

Everyone applauded that. Lucky proposed a toast to the couple. Gia and Alexis ran around making sure everyone had a glass of champagne.

Gia and Cheryl looked at some pictures of the bridesmaids' dresses. V. and Elizabeth eventually came over to the couch and started looking with them. Gia was aware she should ask Emily to join this group, but since they had gotten together without effort on anyone's part, delayed a minute. She need not have worried. It figured that Nicholas noticed and brought Emily over, Lucky in tow. Lucky got her another glass of champagne, and generally acted as if the rest of the girls could start doing something now that Emily was with them.

Fortunately for Gia and Elizabeth, V. and Cheryl were kind enough to take up the talking to Emily. V. showed her the pictures of the dress, and Emily said they looked very nice.

Cheryl asked Gia about her honeymoon.

Gia said they would go for three weeks to Italy. She had a deal with Oksana. Gia had two weeks of paid vacation, and could take only one of them and take the other two weeks unpaid and let Deception use a couple of wedding pictures. Nicholas was fine with it, so this way Gia still had a week of paid vacation left.

Cheryl said, "Deception was a good place to work now. Oksana is clever that way. You can do creative things." 

"I noticed Oksana was showing her son around the other day," Gia said.

"That was my idea," Alexis said, "I think if both parents would show Zander the ropes, sort of pass some knowledge down, they could do him some good; teach him something, and help them get closer again. After all that happened, these little things mean a lot."

"I'm glad for them they made up," Cheryl said, "Does he live with her now?"

"No," Alexis said, "He lives with me."

"I remember you and Quinn coming to Deception to ask me about what I knew about Zander's past," Cheryl said. "And we didn't even know about Oksana then. How funny that it has changed so that the person you were looking for is one of the owners now."

"And Zander was only Quinn's patient, then," Alexis rejoined, "I remember you asking if you and she had switched boyfriends, since you are dating her high school boyfriend."

"Scott, the guy with you tonight?" Elizabeth asked Cheryl. Elizabeth had just met Scott, having met Cheryl through Lucky ages ago.

"Yes," Cheryl answered. 

"Paul is Quinn's ex too," Elizabeth said, "So there are two of them at this party."

"Emily used to go out with Zander," AJ said, "so that makes two of Zander's ex girlfriends at this party too."

"Oh," Cheryl said, looking at Emily. "That must have been later. You were a year behind me, weren't you?"

"Yes," Emily said, bewildered. She took a sip of champagne.

"So I guess you know all about that, too," Cheryl said, sympathy in her voice, "Running away because of his parents' custody battle."

Emily was silent.

"I talked to Quinn about how Zander got kidnapped away from his mother by his father, he and his brother," AJ said. "Carly tried to cut me out like that too, and I wanted to do that to her, but now I'm thinking differently, after hearing that story. I wouldn't want my kid turning out like Zander! But kidding aside," he said, catching Alexis giving him an evil eye, "it did not have good effects."

Cheryl said, "It would be awful not to see one of your parents at all. And to be in a different country from where they were."

"The situation with Carly is a bit different," Alexis said.

"Yeah, Zander was telling me, at least his parents didn't shoot at each other," AJ said. "But being taken out of the country like that, he never saw his mother at all."

"Where's his father?" Elizabeth asked.

"Around," Alexis said. "Zander made up with him pretty well, too."

"I felt so bad for him," Cheryl said, "didn't you?" she addressed that to Emily, then said, "I'm so glad it's starting to work out for him."

"Yeah, I always sort of liked him," V. said. "In spite of all he'd done. Now that I know how it came about, it looks different."

The chatter broke down more, and Emily noticed AJ had gone off to talk to Alexis. V. and Cheryl were looking at the dress again.

Emily went out for some air. It was a cool night. She saw AJ's car and realized she had the keys. She decided to go find Zander and ask him about all this.

In a moment or two, AJ looked around and realized she was gone. He went out and saw that his car was gone. He went back in and was going to continue at the party, but started wondering about whether Emily should be driving. He thought she might have had a drink or two. She was so thin, that it wouldn't take much for her to be over the limit. No, he thought to himself. I'm paranoid because of my own history.

He noticed Jason was staring at Elizabeth and Paul Whitman, who had gone and sat down by Elizabeth now and was leaning over so she could fix his tie.

This did not bode well, AJ thought.

"Hey Jason," he said to his brother. "I let Emily have my car keys. She left without saying anything. I think she might have been a little upset. We were talking about Zander back there, stuff she never even knew. Maybe we should take your car and go after her."

Jason agreed readily, apparently not enjoying what he was seeing.

They went out and got into Jason's car; AJ, sitting in the passenger seat, kept his eyes on the road ahead, while Jason drove. It was a deserted looking road, going through a wooded area, where any houses were back off the road.

There was nothing up ahead. "I hope she didn't drive too fast, AJ said. Then he saw his own car off to the side of the road.

"Wait, Jason!"

AJ did not need to explain, as Jason saw AJ's car. The front end was crumpled up against a tree.

Jason pulled off the road, ran out of the car and up to AJ's.

Emily was laying with her head back against the headrest, muttering a little, conscious, but out of it.

"What has she had to drink?" Jason said. "I can smell alcohol on her breath."

"Oh, no!" AJ said. "She can't have had that much. But she doesn't weigh very much. But is she all right?"

"Yes," Jason answered, checking her over, "nothing broken. Nothing bleeding. Emily, can you hear me?"

"Jason?" she asked. Her eyes closed then.

"We should take her to the hospital," AJ said.

Jason thought they should call the paramedics.

"But you're trained, Jason, and if nothing's broken, maybe it would be better to take her in your car," AJ said. "What if they decide to test for alcohol? She could get arrested.

"How do we explain that our passenger, in our undamaged car, was injured like this?" Jason asked. "She'll have to be arrested, that's all."

"Wait," AJ said. "She has no record, and I know if you try to become a lawyer they ask you about everything on your applications. This could hurt that even years from now. It's my fault, I gave her the car keys. I already have a DUI record, and I haven't even had anything to drink tonight. It's my car. The worst I'll get is reckless driving, and my record doesn't matter anyway."

Jason looked at AJ for a minute.

"Emily knows she was driving," he said.

"We'll have to talk to her before she says anything," AJ said, "and just say she's dreaming or something, if she says anything without being aware of it."

"All right," Jason said. "But I'd rather that the paramedics come and move her safely. I can move her to the passenger seat, but I don't want to have the drive to the hospital be without the proper equipment."

"OK," AJ said, "then I'll call 911 as if I'm at the scene of the accident; then call you to come, so that you came along alone in your car."

"Damn, Emily," Jason said, "why weren't you wearing a seat belt?" He checked her over, and was satisfied that with a manual spinal stabilization, he could move her out and over to the passenger seat.

When he did so, AJ sat in the driver's seat, having thought of moving the seat so that it was set for his height. He adjusted the mirrors.

AJ called 911 and after describing their location, called Jason's phone. They decided that Nicholas and Gia's place was near enough that Jason could have gotten there before the paramedics.

"A mild concussion, it looks like," Jason told the paramedics when they arrived.

"It is the best thing in the world, knowing you were waiting for me, here," Quinn said, moving her hand up and down Zander's arm, the back, then the palm, while lying in bed with him at her apartment. "when I was on the swing shift."

"Now it is the other way round. It's gonna be hard to let you get up to go to work for the midnight shift."

"On midnight shift, I really work well," she laughed. "My memories from the evening are wonderful."

He kissed her, pulling her closer. Then she put her head on his shoulder, and traced her finger on his chest. He stroked her arm a bit, and leaned his head against hers.

She said, "I know somewhere I can take you, soon."

"Where, Miss Connor?"

"Where would both you and I want to go on Memorial Day?"

"The tomb of the unknown soldier?"

"You are studying very hard! Your mind is so full of history! You forget a more historical event for that day!"

"The war? The soldier's memorial? Isn't it the day for memorials of fallen soldiers? George Washington's grave?"

She laughed. "You're studying way too hard! Memorial Day has another function."

"I give up. My brain is too full of American history. What took place that day?"

"It's a matter of what takes place every year on that day!"

He smiled. "Indianapolis."

He smiled, and played with her hair a little bit. "Maybe I can get Dad to take us in a first class way, but I think I'd rather go the Connor way. It's probably more fun."

"Of course. Sergei can come anyway. And then you and I can go and see South Bend."

"Where's South Bend?"

"In Indiana."

"What's there?"

"Educational institution."

"Oh! Notre Dame. Will you take me to see the dorm none of the others could get into, it was so full of Connors and Hanleys, and Joe Quinn, moving the freshman in? All relieved she did not go to Glorified High School!"

"Oh! So they told you about that! Who, Joe, or Danny or Kathleen?"

"You told me that."

"Me? I don't remember telling you that story."

"But you did. When I was still in the hospital."

"How did I come to be telling you that story then?"

"I don't remember, but you did."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I can see you standing there with your chart in some pink scrubs telling me that story, I swear!"

"OK. What a memory. I think you will pass this test for sure."

"Well, my memory for historical facts is not what it is for stories from questioning nurses."

She got up in a little while, and got ready to go to work. He watched her putting on her clothes.

"Stay here," she said, "if you want to, and go to sleep."

"I'm here in a bed and you are there in scrubs," he said. "It reminds me of being in the hospital."

She kissed him good bye, sitting on the bed. "I really like you better uninjured," she said, laughing, as she got up to go.


	95. Chapter 95

**Part 95**

When she got to the hospital, Quinn went around to all of her patients. Presently, she saw she had a new patient. She went to check the chart as she always did.

"Oh, no," she said, "Look, Joanna."

Joanna read the name on the chart. "Emily Quartermaine! Geez, what happened to her?"

Quinn read from the chart, "MVA, concussion and bruises."

Quinn went into the room and checked the equipment. The patient's treatment was to put her into a state of extreme sedation, or sleep, so that she didn't move around, which would hinder healing of the concussion.

Several of the Mansons were in the room.

"Why the heck was she asking for Zander?" Dr. Monica Quartermaine asked. "What did he do now?"

"Nothing, that makes no sense," AJ said. "She was only half conscious. We were talking about him at the party immediately before she left it, so maybe she was thinking about that conversation when we crashed."

"What were you talking about in the car before the crash?"

"Nothing. She wasn't in the mood for talking," AJ said. "She was in a low kind of mood most of the evening."

When Quinn next saw Joanna, she said, "Oh brother! I can't have this patient. I think I'll go and talk to Nurse Spencer in the morning. She was asking for Zander, and the Mansons are all in there wondering why. I think they'll find a way to blame him for her injury."

"I know you're joking," Joanna said. "By now, they wouldn't do that."

"Oh yeah? They can find a way."

"It's not so serious a case, relatively speaking, though. You can do your straightforward job. I wouldn't feel too bad about it. Might be more trouble than it's worth. She won't be here that long."

"I really don't want Zander having to listen to her," Quinn said.

"She might forget. Probably will. She must have been raving."

"AJ said they were talking about him at a party right before she left."

"Right, so it's just the last thing she remembered. What could she have to say to him now?"

"Nothing, I guess. She can have nothing to say to him by now. She hasn't communicated with him since Christmas vacation. That I know of. Why is she here? Spring Break?"

"Yeah, she couldn't go to Florida could she? But heck, when she wakes up, if she remembers whatever about Zander, it will be her problem to arrange her social life. She'll have to get one of the Mansons to hunt him down for her. And he gets along with them so poorly. He won't cooperate."

"I guess you're right. I really don't want him to talk to her. He's about to take that GED, and working hard on studying. He really doesn't need a talk with her. It won't be anything but an unpleasant distraction."

"The Mansons hate him anyway. They'll talk her out of it, if she hasn't forgotten already."

"Yes, you're right. I'm worrying over nothing. You're the best, Joanna!"

Nevertheless, when she got off work at 8, Quinn went by Nurse Spencer's office and explained the situation.

"My boyfriend used to go out with her. I heard she was asking for him last night. She hasn't talked to him in months. And I know all kinds of things about her from him. Things I normally would not know about a patient."

"I have confidence in you," Nurse Spencer said. "In your abilities, and that you can be objective on medical matters. Your very recognition of it shows you know you are aware of it and will be a little extra careful."

"Thank you, Nurse Spencer. Have you ever had a situation like this?"

"I have, in fact, and more than once. Situations that were a lot worse, too. You aren't in the midst of any rivalry for the guy right?"

Quinn smiled. "No, I don't think so. I think he's all mine."

"You'll do fine."

"Thank you," Quinn said, getting up.

"I could tell you all kinds of stories," Nurse Spencer said, "Patients I was related to, in love with, used to be in love with, their former and present and future girlfriends, and friends I had just had fights with! All with the background of a lower level of technology, of course."

Quinn laughed. She felt better. She went back to get her purse and keys and leave.

"Well, I have a meeting I have to go to," one of them was saying. "Skye is out of town. It looks like there is no one that can stay with her."

"Mom and Dad are right here in this very hospital!" Quinn recognized this as AJ's voice.

"But they can't sit in the room," said the other. "They have to work! So does Jason. You should stay. You were driving!"

"I have to go to day care with Michael," AJ said, as they came out of the room just ahead of Quinn, who had stopped in the hall when she heard them. She continued behind them to get back to the nurse's station. "There's a special little show they are doing for parents today, and I promised him I would go."

"That was before you caused this accident!"

"Michael is 3 years old! He doesn't understand that. Emily would. Anyway, she'll be all right. This is a hospital and her parents are in charge of it. Get a grip, Ned! Go to your damn meeting and come back when it's over. Or skip it if you think your cousin's life is threatened if there's no family member sitting in the room."

"Still, someone should sit with her. How about Lucky Spencer?"

"He's at work, I imagine."

"I can't think of any friends she has from high school. That's because she has none, of course, thanks to Zander."

"Really!" Quinn said, forgetting everything in a sudden fury. "How do you manage to blame him for anything and everything and still do it after a year?"

"You got Nurse Connor's Irish temper up, Ned," AJ turned, grinning.

"Because he's the cause of it, that's why!" Ned answered Quinn's question, to her amazement.

"Nurse Connor is his girlfriend now, Ned. You should shut up before you really get it."

"If Nurse Connor is stupid enough to be his girlfriend, that's her problem. That doesn't take away the fact that Emily lost all her friends by dating a drug dealer and that's why she's alone now."

The injustice of this was too much for Quinn, who was in the midst of grabbing her keys and purse from the nurse's station. "She's not alone! Gee, I dated a guy in high school and that didn't mean I couldn't have any friends. I still have friends from high school!" 

"Because you didn't date a drug dealer in high school, you did not lose your friends. You waited until you were an adult, apparently. What's your excuse, Nursie? You can't plead innocence."

"Get lost, Ned," AJ said. "Come on Nurse Connor, I'll take you down."

During the day, Quinn called Nurse Spencer and told her of the argument.

"Now I'm really not sure I should handle this case."

"You handle families of patients really well, but this one is exceptional. I'll go and talk to Dr. Alan and we will see what we can do to get the family members to mind their own business."

"Thank you. Thank you so much, Nurse Spencer." She hung up but wondered why they couldn't simply change Miss Emily to another nurse and give her the next new patient.

Then she giggled. Nurse Spencer had called the Quartermaines "family members."

"Oh Zander," she said, when Zander came over that evening, "did you hear?"

"No, I haven't heard." He took her in his arms and kissed her.

"About Emily?" she asked, stiffening up a little. She led him over to the couch to sit down.

"No. Nothing about her."

"Well, she's all right. But she was in a car accident. AJ was driving. He crashed the car into a tree. He wasn't drunk. He couldn't have been, or they'd have mentioned it for sure. But she has a concussion. And she's my patient."

He pushed her hair back.

"Poor Quinn," he said.

"What about poor Emily?"

"Emily will be fine. She has the best medical attention. But the family will make a bigger deal of it than it is."

"They already are, and I've already lost my temper with one of them. I only hope I don't get into trouble. I usually do OK thinking of Joe's saying that temper will bring the Irish low. I forgot all about that."

"Which one ticked you off?" he asked, massaging her shoulders.

"Ned is his name, I believe?"

"He's such a jerk. You can safely ignore all he says, and you won't miss anything."

"Thank you. But have they tried to get a hold of you?"

"No, why would they?"

"Emily is under sedation now, but she was asking for you at first. AJ says it was because they were talking about you before the crash. And I want you to study for your test, and not get drawn into her dramas."

"I won't," he said. "I'm not going to go and talk to her, and they won't want me to. That part will go away, I promise, nurse."

"I've already talked to Nurse Spencer twice about getting another nurse on the case. She said she has confidence in my objectivity, but I'm starting to lose that."

"I want you off the case so that _she_ doesn't bother _you_. Or, more importantly, so her family _members_ don't!"

Quinn giggled. "Thank you. You know, Nurse Spencer used that same word. She said she would help me with getting the family _members_ to mind their own business!"

"See, she has experience with them!"

"She handled it generously, though. I started it, really. They were talking, but loud enough for me to hear, and this Ned said something that got my Irish up."

"This Ned can do that to anybody within 20 seconds. For the Irish, maybe, it would take 10."

Quinn smiled, and said: "What is it about Little Emily? Why can't she go to Florida for Spring Break like normal people? Or if she comes home, why can't she have a nice vacation, like the rest of us do on Spring Break? How is it that she gets into an auto accident and ends up in the hospital?"

"Everything happens to her."

"Yeah. All the dramas."

"I have an EKG real early. I'll come and get you when you get off of work."

"You don't have to."

"I'll be right there, Quinn! If one of the members is around, I'll draw them off - they can yell at me rather than you. I'm sure they would prefer that anyway."

"Zander! No, the point was they're part of my job. But they don't have any right to interfere with you!"

"Well, if they weren't there, I would come by, you're part of my life. So they aren't going to stop that."

She sighed, and reached over to unbutton his shirt.

The shift was uneventful. Quinn blessed her lucky stars that she was on midnight shift, for once. Even the Mansons went to bed at night. And none of them were abroad when Zander came by in the morning.

He stood in the room with her, looking at Emily, who laid almost still, moving a little here and there even with the sedation. Her eyes were closed, and she looked like she was in a fitful sleep. IV tubes and other equipment were hooked up, and a monitor was flashing.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Quinn explained, thinking he could still be rather worried. She figured she'd hate to see Paul or Sean like that. "When you have a head injury like this, you have to stay still, yet the injury causes you to thrash about, because you don't totally control your arms and legs. So the treatment is to keep you asleep. So she is not unconscious naturally. She would be conscious by now, but for the treatment."

Zander put his arm around her. "She has the best nurse," he said.

"Dr. Jones is a good neurologist," Quinn said. "He thinks she will recover fine."

A secretary came by and said she was looking for Quinn. Dr. Alan Quartermaine wanted to see her.

"I'll be right there," Quinn said. "Gee, I think I'm in trouble."

"I'll go with you," Zander said. "Without me in your life, Little Emily wouldn't be this much of a problem for you. I mean, I'll stay outside. You handle him much better than I can. But I'll be there when you get out. OK?"

"You're adorable," she said.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper," Quinn apologized to Dr. Alan Quartermaine. Before she could go on, he waived his hand. "I think highly of your professionalism and that's why I want you to stay on this case. Nurse Spencer always said you are the best she has when it comes to handling patients and their families."

Quinn marveled at these words. She hadn't had any idea she was any such thing, or considered so by anyone. It almost felt like he was talking about someone else.

"But this family, even without its position in regards to the hospital, is too much to ask anyone to handle. I want you to be able to attend to your job. So if one of them says anything to you beyond hello and goodbye, call me; that's all I want you to do. Don't even try to handle them. Do your job at patient care, and call me the minute any of them becomes an issue at all. If you can't reach me for some reason, call Dr. Jones or Dr. Monica. If they somehow get in at night, call security immediately. They will know what to do. Will you do that?"

"I will," she said, haltingly. She was still amazed. "Thank you," she said, as she left his office.

"What a relief!" She almost fell into Zander's arms.

Zander walked her away, an arm around her. "What did he say?" he asked.

"I couldn't believe it. He said to call him if any of them say anything to me! Do my job, don't try to handle them, at the first sign of trouble with them, call him. "

"He knows them."

"He said the nicest things! And I was sure he would yell at me!"

"He and his wife are kind of fair minded. At least, in this building they are."

Quinn checked her patients when she went back in at midnight.

Readjusting something on Emily Quartermaines' bed, she noticed something. 

Some abrasions, rather minor, but still visible, on the chest.

Nobody had bothered to make a record, having checked and found no internal bleeding.

But she wasn't driving, so why did she have abrasions on her chest?

Quinn wondered if she was supposed to even think about this. Dr. Jones would have taken care of it if it needed taking care of, and Quinn thought, "I'm not part of the police force. She could have struck the dashboard. Her head obviously struck the windshield. Clearly no seat belt."

Unable to contain her curiosity, Quinn looked. No bruising or damage to the clavicle, and no abrasions to her inner arms, which might occur from the airbag. Without a seat belt, the air bag would not have been much help. No abdominal bruising, which could have occurred from the belt or the airbag.

These bruises on the chest could not have been due to a seat belt. But they could have been due to an impact with the steering wheel.

Out in the hall, Quinn looked for a record of blood alcohol content. They would have taken that record even if a person was a car passenger, where they thought they had been drinking, so that they could determine what medication to give them now, and how much. The staff needed to know what drugs might be in a patient's system, before administering more.

"Joanna!" Quinn said, at break time, "come out onto the balcony!"

"What's up"?" Joanna said, following her.

"I have this suspicion. But I want to tell you so you can tell me if I'm an overreacting jealous girlfriend first."

"Emily?"

"Yes."

"What suspicions?"

"That she was driving. And she has a blood alcohol of .11."

"Over the limit," Joanna commented. "But why do you suppose she was driving?"

"Chest bruises. I know she could have them anyway," Quinn said. "But they look like the chest bruises people usually have when they were driving, not wearing a seat belt, and hit the steering wheel."

"Are they recorded on the chart?"

"No," Quinn said.

"They should be. I don't think you'd be paranoid to at least do that," Joanna said. "In fact, I'm a small bit suspicious they aren't."

"Would you look and see if you agree with me?"

"Sure."

Joanna came out. "I agree with you."

"I'm going to make a record," Quinn said.

"If they are really perpetrating a fraud like this," Joanna said, "somebody ought to take pictures."

"You're right. But are we in a position to call a cop? I'm her nurse. As such, I don't care how it happened."

"Yeah, we've got a duty to report suspected child abuse, but this, I don't know."

"Man," Quinn said, "she's almost as bad as Zander himself. I already feel like I've pestered Nurse Spencer enough on this case."

"I'll do it," Joanna said, "I'm not on her case. I could have happened to run in there for you any time. You make the records. It's your job. Maybe I'll talk to that nice cop, the lady, and ask her."

"V. Ardanowski. That's a good idea, Joanna. Some of those others will jump at the chance to make a big deal of it, but she'll be sensible, I think. She won't jump all over it if I'm making too much of it."

Quinn told Zander of her suspicions.

"I don't feel entirely objective," she said. "I asked Joanna for help, so as not to drag in the bosses. Joanna's going to be the good citizen. I feel almost like it is wrong to deal with the patient in such a way. AJ said he was driving. And it was his car, is what I heard. And he wasn't drunk, or I'd have heard all about that. So why would he let her drive when she'd had a few drinks and he had none; his own car?" 

"Key to this investigation, nurse," Zander said, "is that you know that the Quartermaines are willing to manipulate the system. You know that if one of Little Emily's family members caught her driving under the influence, they'd do what they could to help her get away with it. They learned this approach to life from the very Grandfather that attempted to fake an assault, medical records included. So my first deduction is that AJ was never in that car, at least, not before the accident."

Quinn sat down. Zander sat next to her, and took her hand. "She's as bad as you," Quinn said. "First she's asking for my boyfriend, then she is part of this Quartermaine plot - all while under sedation."

"Just wait till she wakes up," Zander grinned.

"She was found in the passenger seat."

"AJ moved her over."

"You should never move someone who has been injured."

"Right. You wait for the paramedics, right?"

"Yes. They know how to immobilize the person. Anyone who doesn't know what to do can do further damage."

"AJ is a Quartermaine. He may have risked it. Maybe he is trained a little. They're all doctors in that family. Maybe they taught him the first rate first aid course, including how you should move an injured person when you have to."

"You can learn that," Quinn agreed, "in a rare case, if the car was on fire and you had to get someone out of there without waiting. Two doctor parents. I suppose it would be possible – they know how important it is for people to learn CPR and First Aid. They could have sent him to a class – even an advanced one. And he could have moved her without doing major damage, even if he didn't know how to do it right."

"To get her out of a charge like DUI," Zander said. "He might have. How dangerous is it? Could he have killed her?"

"Probably not," Quinn said. "Though he would not have realized that, if he knew he didn't know enough about accident scene treatment. Hey, I had a thought. Remember at Gettysburg, talking about being trained for something and then being able to use it to act quickly?"

"Of course. I don't think I'll ever forget a minute of the whole trip."

"Well, paramedic, emergency medical tech. It's something to think about."

"Why?"

"For you, silly."

"For me, how?"

"To become one someday!"

"Oh."

"A thought only. Do you think you wouldn't like it?"

"I don't know. I suppose I could."

"Have you ever thought about what you want to do?"

"No," he said, "not much. Pete and I talked about it and all we came up with was he wanted to be an astronaut when he was eight."

"I think you could do that too. Usually nowadays they are trained in some scientific subject."

"Alexis is on this, too," he said. "She shows me stuff she is working on for Dad. She thinks I should look into what they do."

"I could see where you could have inherited an aptitude for that. Mom thinks you are a born teacher. Is an athletic coach much like a teacher?"

"Somewhat. Dad did that once, too. He could tell me about it. That is something you'd have to think about, more."

"I don't know. You can talk to Mom about it, too. I'm sure she would love to. You probably do think on your feet, a lot. You are trained and prepared for the class, but once in there, you are on your feet. I've heard plenty of stories about that."

"I'm not sure. You're handling people, children. There are times I think I am worst at that. The paramedic, emergency medical thing – that would be better, maybe, because you are only handling the person physically. Now when it comes to mental things – I can get into arguments with people faster than anything. Maybe I should be a lawyer."

"You've really got firsthand observation on how that is."

"I can explain things, I think. I might make a good teacher for good students. Willing students."

"Like adults – these days there could be all kinds of things. Computer programs. I remember Dad talking about the people who came to teach them how to use the computer programs when they first got them at McKinley."

"There's a lot of different things," Zander observed. "More than meets the eye."

"You've got time to think about it."

"You helped broaden my view, Quinn."

"I like to. I care what becomes of you, and I hope it's going to be good. I think it will be."

"Man, this is terrible," Nicholas was saying.

"All of the doctors say she is going to be fine," Gia said, half to reassure him but half in disgust. This _would_ happen to her, Gia thought. Wonder why this didn't happen to Cheryl, or to Elizabeth? Is it really random, Gia wondered, or does Emily have something to do with her continual "bad luck?"

Edward Quartermaine interrupted these thoughts, coming into the room. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

Gia wanted to go. There was no point in arguing with that unpleasant old man. "Come on, Nicholas." 

"I'm here to see Emily, Mr. Quartermaine," Nicholas said. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd be a little more appreciative."

"Appreciative for what?" Edward responded, "Dragging her all the way out there to that house of yours for a party, giving her too much to drink and a headache, so she had to get AJ to take her home early?"

"Surely, I don't see how you can consider us responsible –"

"Come on, Nicholas," Gia cut him off. "There's no point."

"You're upset because of what happened to Emily," Nicholas said, "and so I'll chalk this up to that. Good night, Mr. Quartermaine."

"Young lady," Edward said to Quinn when she came in, "see to it that young man and his so-called fiancée don't come back again."

"Yes, sir," Quinn said.

"And let's see, who else, oh, that deviant Zander Smith. Do you know what he looks like?"

"Yes, I do," Quinn said.

She finished what she was doing and went out and called Dr. Alan.

In a few minutes, Quinn saw Alan go into Emily's room. "Get out of here, father," he said.

Quinn heard the grandfather argue with Alan, but eventually, he came out with him.

"He and that Gia Campbell were standing here, and no one was around but them," Edward was saying. "I had shooed them out by the time the nurse came in."

"Yes, yes, father, we will see to it," Alan was saying to him, escorting him to the elevator.

One of the elevators opened, and the grandfather went into it, exhorting his son again to get the nurse to be more on the ball. The other opened, and the Connor family came out of it, to Quinn's amazement.

"We brought you some pizza," Kathleen told Quinn. Danny, Joe, Tim and Brad and she had gone out to Diego's for pizza."

"Thank you, Mom," Quinn said. Dr. Alan will still standing there, so she introduced him to Kathleen, Danny, Tim and Brad.

"We haven't had the chance to go out to dinner in so long," Kathleen said. "We decided to go out instead of cook. We realized you weren't there, all grown up and at work. We missed you!"

"I know how that is," Dr. Alan said, "The nest starts to empty. Your daughter is an excellent nurse. We're fortunate she is on our staff."

"Thank you," Danny said. "We think you are, too."

"Is Quinn the oldest?"

"Yes," Kathleen answered. "These are all of ours, right here, the three of them."

"We have four," Alan smiled, "two girls and two boys. Our youngest, Emily, is home for Spring Break, and got into an auto accident. She is Quinn's patient, in fact."

"You must have a lot of faith in Quinn," Danny said, "to let her work on the case of her boyfriend's old girlfriend."

"I know she is professional enough not to be bothered by that," Alan answered. "by her handling the case of Zander. She worked long and hard on that. He was a much more difficult patient. As to handling him personally, Quinn is older than Emily, out of school and working in her career. She must be able to handle him better. He hasn't been arrested in what, two weeks?"

"Well, his parents are in town now," Danny said, "They'll take care of him. "

"I hope they do," Alan said. Dr. Jones came by and wanted to talk to him, so he parted from them.

"I got the pictures developed, Quinn," Kathleen said. She handed Quinn the photo of Quinn and Zander on Little Round Top. "I knew you'd want that for your desk area."

"Thanks," Quinn said. "Thanks, Mom. I like it." She looked at the photo. It had been a pretty day, and it looked like they were out in an open field – you couldn't tell it was a battlefield. Zander had smiled, but not too broadly, and tilted his head towards her a little. His arm was around her back with his hand on her shoulder. She was smiling, too, a nice natural smile, that didn't look put on for the camera, her arm around his back.

Later, she put it on her board, along with her nursing school graduation, prom and family pictures. "Paul, you have been replaced," Joanna's voice woke Quinn out of a reverie.

"Looks so, doesn't it?" Quinn grinned. "Who would have thought it?"


	96. Chapter 96

**Part 96**

"We are getting a really tempting offer," said Bill Worth. "And what with all those legal and psychiatric bills, he might take it. Unless it's you, of course," he said to Jax.

The ELQ board was gathering, still mostly standing around a table, getting cups of coffee and stirring them with skim milk or sugar substitutes. 

"What difference does that make, for heaven's sake?" Monica asked Bill Worth. "This corporation would be rid of you, no matter who you sold to! Or, of your client, I mean," she amended, regaining her politeness.

"I will not have that Russian pirate taking over this company!" Edward declared.

"Not to worry," Jax said. "Whatever offer the Russian pirate makes, I'll make them a better."

Monica sat down, wondering whether Edward preferred Jax owing 40 or still only 20 with a "Russian pirate" owning another 20.

"Things are going strangely on the docks, lately, too," Worth said. There's a new coffee warehouse at the end of it."

"Competing with yours?" Alan asked, pleasantly, "or making it clearer to the feds that yours is no such thing?"

"There's coffee in that warehouse," Worth said. "I've seen it."

The rest of the board looked disgusted at Worth being so naïve that he thought they were naïve enough to believe that Worth's seeing some coffee in the Corinthos facility meant that it was actually a coffee warehouse.

"This activity is definitely aimed at this company," Ned said. "That is clear."

"That's why you don't want this Russian to get 20 of it," Jax said. "It's not a controlling position. But once in, he will work at it, you can be sure."

"Don't see how," AJ said. "Our family will go under rather than let him get enough to control. Hell, they'll be nervous about somebody having 40."

"He'd have someone on the board."

"Can we get on with it?" Monica said. "Today? We have the board as it exists today, and a thing or two to take care of in the present reality."

"I want you to have your place back to yourself," Zander said, "You're used to it."

"I need no such thing, but I know you need your space, too. But that's your room up there, whenever you need it," Alexis said. "Like Quinn's room over at her folks house. Think of it like that. That Gatehouse is more like your own house than having a room to go home to."

"I will. Thank you for all you've done for me, Alexis."

"I'm not done with that. Whatever you need; if you need help of any kind, or an ear, or whatever, and your parents can't or won't or you just plain don't feel like telling or asking them. Just call me. Or tell me, if you're at work."

He laughed. "I love you," he said. She hugged him, saying, "Me too. You're one of the biggest lights in my life. Don't forget it."

"I want to rent an apartment, but at least for right now, Mom would take it wrong. I'm not up for that, right now, setting back getting along with her, over this kind of thing. This way I can make some progress on that, be near Pete for awhile. If it were the house, maybe I wouldn't do it, but she's giving me a lot of space with the Gatehouse. It's generous of her, anyway. It will take me a step up, at least, to have to take care of the place on my own."

"With maids and gardeners and all the rest!"

"Well, OK, sort of take care of it on my own! And Quinn likes the Gatehouse."

"She can be your first guest."

"Oh, no. The second. You will be the first. Oh, and Mom will be third. Merely being the owner doesn't put her at the top!"

"I think she will be very happy with that!"

"She acts pretty happy, anyway."

"She is. I'm happy for _you_. Getting along with her, as you say. And having Peter nearby, like that. I think that is important to you."

"Meanwhile, you don't have this pseudo-son in his room next door, and hanging around. That should improve your social life."

"Are you still working on that? I guess I can expect more information on that in the near future."

"Yes," he laughed. "I plan on nagging you even more."

"In most of these cases," V. told Joanna, who sat across from her at the desk in the office, "they are found behind the wheel at the scene. It is tough to overcome the switch defense. That's what they call it when they do that."

"What kind of airhead," Joanna asked, "gets in a car as a passenger when the driver is under the influence? If the passenger is drunk, maybe they don't get it. But AJ would have gotten into a car, knowing her was straight sober, as a passenger, with a driver under the influence. AJ is – I don't know, really – I never think of him as one of the smartest people I'd ever seen. But I never think of him as one of the dumbest people I've ever seen, either."

"Two things," V. said. Joanna nodded. She liked people who organized their thoughts.

"Number one. You'd be amazed. Be a police officer for about a year, and you find out, people do all kinds of incredibly stupid things. This included."

Joanna laughed.

"Number two. AJ personally might have an unconscious death wish. That is an exaggeration, but the general idea is that his brother Jason got into a car with him when he was drunk. Shows you a bit about point one, though Jason may have been partly drunk too; they were both at a party. AJ drives, crashes, doesn't get badly injured, but Jason really does. Emily's BAC is not that high, and not that noticeable, even so, if she got in to drive, AJ might rather risk himself rather than tell her she's too drunk to drive."

"The laws are strict," Joanna said. "It's a low BAC that can get you in violation of it. She wouldn't have been stumbling around. In the end, she only really injured herself. Maybe it's worth letting it go, anyway."

"And the difficulties of proof, true, might not be worth it where she injured only herself and where she was not all that drunk. I don't like the Quartermaines continuing to think they can play games with the system, but this might not be the one to teach them a lesson on. They will come up with a bunch of witnesses from the party to say she was fine and that they saw AJ get into the car and drive off. I was there, even. I didn't see her stumbling about, but then, that doesn't mean she wasn't driving under the influence. I didn't notice her or AJ leaving."

"Those bruises were pretty clear, though. Could that be enough evidence?"

"Very possibly. And a little investigation to show them we know they are up to something might be a good cautionary warning to them. I could talk to emergency room people. Between them, and you, we could get a warrant to get a forensic doctor to review the records. Another thing, I could talk to the uniformed officers on the scene. They might have seen something that they didn't get the importance of right off the bat. Then I could talk to AJ and Emily."

"Good plan. And the paramedics on the scene."

"Right. Thanks. See, how, if you think about it, a lot of people are witnesses."

"If you need any help, let me know. Quinn noticed it too, but doesn't like telling on her patient, so to speak."

"That's understandable," V. said. "Anyway, there are three nurses at least on the case, and doctors. They'll all notice eventually."

"It might have gone over their heads," Joanna said. "Quinn is so damned observant."

Emily was awake now, and even able to get up. Quinn had her walk down the hall, and was again in doubt she should keep on the case. When she first got Emily up, she was sort of overwhelmed, intimidated, even. Why this should be so from such a silly thing, Quinn wondered, but the fact was that Emily was about as tall as Zander, and she was well built, so that Quinn simply felt like a little girl.

Quinn knew it was absurd, she was a professional and five years older than Emily, but there it was. Emily also had a certain presence and self confidence, even in a hospital gown, that Quinn could barely describe, but figured went along with being from a wealthy family, indulged, the youngest, never given any reason to doubt herself no matter what mistakes she had made.

Awhile later, Quinn passed the room and saw the Emily was talking to somebody on the phone.

Later, she talked to Joanna at the nurse's station. Everything was quiet as they watched the monitors.

"I talked to V. She thinks it is worth talking to the officers on the scene and the emergency room personnel. And the other nurses. Have they noticed this?"

"Terri Hayes noticed I had put it on the chart and remarked the same as you did," Quinn answered. "So V. thinks it is serious enough to look into?"

"To look into, yes. She said it might be hard to prove, that the switch driver defense is hard to get around. The police are usually on the scene and find the person behind the wheel. And the driver's friends testify she wasn't driving and she wasn't drunk."

"You could get injuries like that from your chest hitting the dashboard. But it is farther away. If she hit the dashboard that hard, her head would have hit the windshield that much harder."

"Then the head injury would have been worse, right. I wonder if the windshield was broken. If it wasn't, the impact was at lower speed."

"And why isn't AJ injured? He was close to the steering wheel. The seat belt, I guess. The passenger does tend to get hurt worse than the driver, too. You think AJ would do a thing like this? Zander does. He's about certain."

"Yeah, and V. pointed out, you know about the accident with him driving, and Jason as the passenger? He feels guilty. He can make it up to one sibling by helping the other. That's V.'s psychoanalysis, anyway."

"Volunteering over at Ferncliff has rubbed off on her. She and Elizabeth are both artists, and they're doing pictures for the patients over there. Something about art calming psychiatric patients down."

"V. is an artist? How interesting. Does she double as a suspect-drawer?"

Quinn laughed. "I don't know. She could. She draws anything. I saw her draw King George right at the table at the Outback that day. Remember I told you about them drawing Zander some history pictures?"

"Yeah, are they still on that project?"

"Yep. You would be amazed at their ambition! You know the famous paintings of Washington Crossing the Delaware, and of the Continental Congress? V. came over the other day with a painting of Washington crossing the Delaware! Elizabeth had done one of the Continental Congress. Not only that, she painted Zander in as a delegate!"

"Who painted Zander?" Quinn and Joanna practically jumped out of their seats. Emily was standing outside the desk.

"Are you alright?" Quinn asked. "I not sure you should be getting up by yourself, yet."

"Yes. I can't sleep. It's so weird in here."

Quinn looked at the monitor, and pulled out the chart. "You can have a sleeping pill. It doesn't do you much good to be awake at night." She got up to go to the supply room.

"Who painted Zander?" Emily asked again, as Quinn walked away.

Quinn stopped for a moment. "Elizabeth Webber, your friend. She'll tell you about it. She's doing some paintings, a series about American history." She walked off, nervous, but she had managed to keep cool and professional.

In the supply room, she measured out the medication and put it on a tray. She took a deep breath, and felt better thinking that Emily's personality was not anything like Ned's, at least. Quinn thought it would be a simple thing to keep her temper. She hadn't met any former girlfriend of Paul's; somehow they had ended up at different hospitals, being other doctors, or nurses, Scott hadn't had any, and the few times she had met Sean's old girlfriend had been short and pleasant enough, the previous relationship somehow having ended to the girl's satisfaction.

But she didn't know what to make of Emily, who was also her patient. Being the one who was older and the professional got Quinn feeling as if the responsibility to make it all go well fell entirely onto her.

Emily was back in bed, and took her pills. She asked, "Why did Elizabeth paint Zander?"

"Does anything hurt?" Quinn asked, trying to imply that this was a business relationship only.

"My head," Emily said.

"This will ease that pain, and help you sleep," Quinn said, indicating the pills. "Is it mild, or sharp?"

"Mild," Emily said. "A low, dull pain. But why don't you want to answer my questions? It's only about a painting."

"I have to do all this first," Quinn said, indicating her chart, where she intended to make a note of the "mild, low, dull, pain" and that the patient had woken up in the middle of the night. "I don't want to miss anything. I don't really know. I suppose Elizabeth liked him as a model for a colonial guy."

"How did you see the painting, though?"

"She gives them to Zander to help him with studying American History for a GED. He's got this thing about remembering better what he can picture. One day we saw Elizabeth and she said she'd do some pictures for him."

"Oh," Emily said, laying her head back. "It's nice you're friends with her, after she took your boyfriend and all that."

"That's water long over the bridge. Are you feeling sleepier?"

"Yes," Emily looked at her, with an inscrutable expression.

Quinn put the chart away and left the room.

"Do you think she heard us talking about AJ and her and the accident?" Joanna asked her later, when she had come back from checking on another patient.

"If she did she's hiding it. She was only asking about Elizabeth painting Zander. Come to think of it, why does she find that so interesting? Maybe it was a distraction so we'd think she didn't hear."

"Sneaky. She could have buzzed for you if she wanted something."

"Man, that's a scary thought. She was trying to eavesdrop? I doubt it. I don't know. Maybe she really felt like taking a walk."

"She'd be the first patient to feel like that in her condition in my experience."

"Mine too."

Elizabeth went to visit Emily the next day, and got Paul to go with her.

"I'm sorry this happened to you," Elizabeth said. "I was in an accident, too."

"Yeah, you told me, long after it happened, of course," Emily said with a wry look.

"How do you feel?" Paul asked Emily.

"Much better, today."

"Are you going to be moved down out of ICU?" Paul asked.

"I haven't heard. All I heard was, you were doing paintings of Zander. How come?"

"Oh, you mean my history paintings? How did you find out about that?"

"Nurse Connor was talking about it and I overheard her."

"I ran into them once, and we got into this conversation. The upshot is, it was going to help Zander study if he could see pictures. V., another artist, and I got into doing pictures based on American History, what he was studying. How much actual help this is to him, I don't know, but he says it does. We're going to do an exhibit of them; we've been planning it in our spare time. We probably will get it going in the summer."

"I hope you'll be able to see it, Emily," Paul said. "It will be really interesting."

"In the summer, I could," she said. "I'll be back from school."

"That's great," Elizabeth said, for form's sake.

"Is this nurse still going out with Zander? If she ever was."

"I don't know for sure," Elizabeth said. "I would have assumed so. It wasn't that long ago we saw them, V. and I, and Zander never said otherwise when I've taken him the pictures."

"I haven't talked to Quinn much recently," Paul said, "but I'd have assumed the same thing. Let me check with the gossip mill, and give you two a chance to catch up."

"OK," Elizabeth smiled, and passed her hand down his arm.

"You're really still into _him,_ anyway," Emily said.

"Yes. What's up with you?"

"Not much. Still a few weeks to go, and I will finally be done with my freshman year. Boy, it has been the longest year of my life!"

"Where do you go, or is that still a secret?"

"I guess not. University of Kentucky."

"Sounds nice. Do you know what you're going to major in?"

"No. Something good for law school, I think. I work part time in a law firm. In the summer I'm going to be able to work at Baldwin & Baldwin. Zander took my old job with Alexis."

"That's good. You know what you want to do, already."

Paul came back in. "Teri Hayes says they're still all hot and heavy. Quinn's bulletin board has a picture of the two of them together. She took the picture of us down, and gave me my half! Sent her godfather to give me my half!"

Elizabeth laughed. "That's cute. It's like a mini-divorce. You don't have to split the property, but you have to split the pictures."

"It's a good thing that's all we had to split!"

"Well, I wonder if Zander's still mad at me," Emily said, "When you and that other girl were talking about all that stuff at the party that no one had ever told me. Like what did his mother and father do? He would never tell me. I went to ask him about it. That's when the accident happened."

"Everybody kind of knows, now," Elizabeth said. "He had run away from home when his father got arrested for violating custody orders, I think. His mother got him to come back to the US - don't remember now why he didn't just stay with her. But they became estranged, and it never got fixed up until your mom needed his medical history for heart problems."

"Don't see why he couldn't have just told me that," Emily complained. "And that Carly shot him."

"His running away, and his parents, all that was painful," Paul volunteered, "he was running from it. He probably didn't want to think about it. He'd have told no one to this day without the heart issue."

"Guess you're right," Emily said.

When Zander got to the Gatehouse, there was a big "Welcome Home" sign in English and Russian in the lobby. Everyone from the big house was working in the kitchen.

"Where's Q?" Pete asked Zander.

"Slaving away at the hospital. She has the worst possible patient. My old girlfriend got into a car accident."

"Emily? The Quartermaine girl?" asked Oksana

"Yes."

"Poor Emily!" Pete said.

"Poor Emily?" Zander hit Pete playfully. "Poor Quinn!'

"No, poor Emily, Sander," Pete said. "I hope she doesn't trip the Irish temper."

They sat down to dinner, Oksana, Zander, Peter, Rosa, Lisa and Diana.

"Thank you, this was nice," Zander said.

"Welcome home, Sandy," Peter said.

One of the family members had brought Emily some school books. Quinn thought it was odd to study during Spring Break, but for a little while, Emily seemed to be doing it.

Quinn saw a familiar looking spiral notebook.

"University of Kentucky," she said, when she saw it. "I know that school. My old boyfriend went to law school there."

"I thought your old boyfriend was that doctor with Elizabeth," Emily said.

"Yes, this is another one."

"You sure have a lot of those out there."

Quinn felt a second of impatience, but avoided any smart-alecky reply. But, at the very least, she could make the conversation uncomfortable in both directions.

"What happened in this accident?" she asked. "You have bruises all over."

"I don't remember," was the answer.

"Did you see AJ going off the road before the car hit?"

"I don't remember anything."

That figured, Quinn thought. 

"But what's your other old boyfriend's name?" Emily asked. "I work at a law firm in Lexington."

"Sean Monroe."

"There's a Sean at the firm I work for," Emily answered. "Maybe two Seans."

Officer Andrew Enright told V., "I remember, Detective Ardanowski, and I know it's not evidence, but I remember Mr. Quartermaine telling me more than once that he was driving, and having an impression he was a little too insistent. That's the best I can do, because when I got there, he was out of the car, and the girl was in the passenger seat. It was his car, and she was the little sister, you know, it seemed natural he was driving, which was why it struck how he told me he was."

"Did the girl have a seat belt on?"

"Let me look at this report," Officer Enright looked at the file he had.

"No, which explains her hitting the windshield. Looking at the car, it was a moderate-speed impact – probably below 30 m.p.h."

"Was the windshield cracked, do you remember?"

"No, as noted here, and you could look at the car, too. If it gets repaired, the insurance company will probably have taken photos."

The EMT remembered some "swelling" but felt all the ribs and none were broken.

The X ray technician did X rays that confirmed it. They could see that there was no internal bleeding and were satisfied it was only a concussion. The emergency room doctors and nurses did not seem to have noticed the swelling but their job was such that minor injuries could be left for others. Dr. Jones noted the bruising and had neglected to put it on the chart, but he had noticed it. His focus was the concussion, the only injury that required the hospitalization.

"Come to think of it, I had a fleeting thought she was amazingly banged up in the chest for a passenger," he said. "The day after, bruising shows up more. Reminded me more of a driver than a passenger, that way."

V. found AJ at home and asked him some questions about it.

"What time did you leave the party?"

"Must have been about 10, 11, really, really hard to say, because it was a party, and I paid no attention to the time."

"Why did you leave?"

"Emily had a headache."

"Had she had any alcohol? I didn't notice."

"A couple of glasses of champagne. But I worry that she's thin and it doesn't take much. That's why I drove."

"It's your car, isn't it?"

"Yes. She likes to drive it though. You know how younger siblings are."

"Did she want to drive?"

"Yes, but I wouldn't let her."

"So you were going northbound on Lake Road. How did the accident happen?"

"The accident? Oh. I plowed into that tree."

"Why? You weren't drunk. Were you tired?"

"Yes," he said, "and a deer came out and I swerved to avoid it and lost control."

"How fast were you going right before this happened?"

"Must have been doing about 35."

"Did you get a chance to hit the brakes?"

"I can't even remember, it happened so fast."

"OK. Call me if you remember anything else."

"You guys are going to charge me with something, right?"

"Why do you ask that?"

"You're asking questions. Why else would you?"

"Investigating. Maybe it was only an accident."

"I hope you decide that."

Alexis loved the Gatehouse. "This is perfect for a bachelor! And here's your picture. That was so sweet. Florida and Russia. But are all visitors allowed? It just occurred to me. What if you want to have your Dad over?"

"I think Mom would allow for that. I'm waiting to see what happens in terms of Mom coming over. I wonder if she will stop by every time she drives in herself, or rarely! I don't even have a prediction! I figure I'll invite him over and then if she realizes it, she'll have to do the complaining and boot me out."

"It's really looking up, over the car and everything. Maybe they'll even align against you over the car."

They both laughed. "That would be _something_!" Zander exclaimed.

"How often will you go up to the main house, is another question."

"It's easier, so maybe more often. Amanda - I'm still going to meet her at the office, though. I don't want to risk being late in the morning."

"Now if you were driving your car, this would never be a problem."

"I would get a ticket every day! Taggart would see to it!"

Alexis laughed. "You could be right."

"How are you doing with your Horror Patient, that Englishwoman?" Zander asked Quinn when he went to her apartment on the evening of her day off.

Quinn laughed and put her arms around him.

"Not too bad. I came close to losing it once. And I learned the identity of her university."

"No way! You have a security clearance for that information when you are the girlfriend of that deviant?"

"The Grandfather was there arguing with a guy and a girl who were there visiting her. He told me not to permit them to come back. Then he told me not to let you in to see her either."

They both laughed at this.

"Which I certainly will not allow," Quinn said. "It is bad for the patient. It is bad for the student. It is bad for the nurse. The college seems to be general conversation now, and it is a real coincidence. She goes to the University of Kentucky, where Sean went to law school. I spent two years visiting that place on the weekends!"

"Amazing. So she is at Shyster Sean's university."

"Yeah, she works in a law firm in Lexington, she says, and there are a couple of Seans there."

"Wouldn't that be a coincidence?"

"Too much of one. Well, there are many Seans in the world, fortunately. She asked about the paintings. She heard Joanna and I talk about them. She wanted to know how Elizabeth came to paint you, or something. And Teri Hayes told me she asked if I was still seeing you."

"Which Teri Hayes told her was so, I hope."

"Of course. This is standard, old gossip now."

"Good," he said. "I like being known as your man. Though the opposite could be true for you."

"No, you'll find most people like you, if you pay attention. It's only some of the English who don't."

Quinn went down to the regular ward to do her post-check on Emily.

She was doing very well, now. She was sitting up and looked fine. She complained of feeling stiff all over, but said her head actually didn't hurt.

Lucky came in to see her.

"Quinn, what are you doing here?" he asked.

"I work here."

"They put you on Emily's case?"

"Yes."

"Odd, that they would do that, considering Zander."

"Oh it's not odd," Emily said. "They put whoever comes up in the rotation on, and almost nothing will get them to change it."

"Bureaucracies," Quinn said. "It worked out fine," she told Lucky.

"I hope Zander isn't still mad at me," Emily said, pulling her blankets closer around her.

"No one likes being broken up with," Quinn said. "When somebody drops you, you can't help but feel kind of mad. But he does say you did a lot for him and he mentions that with gratitude whenever he speaks of you."

"We didn't even break up for a real reason."

"You've got to watch that family of yours," Quinn advised, wondering at herself. "They interfere an awful lot."

"But how would you know?"

"Zander. He told me, of course. About what your grandfather did. It just sounds like they were always in the way."

"He told you about that?"

"Of course. It was a big problem for him. For you too. You were in high school, and should have been having a lot of fun, your senior year. But you spent a lot of time with a cold hearted drug dealer, but got him to take a half step back toward humanity - really, I'm grateful to you. It was much easier for me than it would have been without that half a step, I'm sure."

"We were really in love, but technically still we are, because I never knew what was going on."

"Forget it, Emily," Lucky said. "Zander is not worth it. No offense, Quinn," he said, aside.

"You never did understand, Lucky," Emily said. "Zander even wanted me to go away to school and agreed to not knowing where I was. I agreed to not knowing about his family. We did that for each other."

"Strange thing to do for each other," Quinn said. "I want to know everything."

"I thought you weren't that serious about him. It is a surprise that you're still going out with him."

"Why would you think that?"

"Hospital gossip mill."

"That isn't always entirely right."

"So you aren't serious now?"

"I don't know. It's that stage where you really can't say, or don't know yet."

"You _never_ know," Lucky said. "You should know that, Quinn. I thought Elizabeth was serious and you thought Paul was serious. Now look where we're at."

"You never know," Emily agreed.

Zander told Quinn on the phone he had a surprise for her, and told her to come to the Gatehouse.

"Do you notice anything different?"

"No, not really."

"Look around some more."

Bemused she walked through the kitchen and up to the living room and through the hall.

"Open stuff up," Zander suggested.

In the bedroom she opened the closet and saw his clothes in there, and so she opened the drawers to see if they held clothes, too.

"You're going to live here! Good! I'm glad!"

"I hoped so."

"How happy Oksana and Pete must be. And Rosa!"

"They were here my first night. I tried to get it all in order before I showed you."

"How often have they been here since?" Quinn asked, with a mischievous grin.

"So far, so good! I've gone up there as much or a little more, and in a couple of days, no one has dropped in unexpectedly. I'm still waiting for a surprise visit, though."

"Do you think your mom has keys?"

"I don't know! She could come in any time!"

"A surprise visit!"

"I think she's too busy for that."

"Invite her up regularly, and that will prevent surprise visits. That worked with my family when I first moved out."

"That's brilliant. I'll do it." He gave her a hug, then maneuvered her back onto the bed, and fell on top of her.

She put her arms around him.

"Stay here tonight," he said. "I'll lock this room's door, just in case."

"My car will be out there. You could get caught!"

"Now we find out how Oksana feels about all that," he answered.

"OK, you got me where I can't bear to refuse," she giggled. "Let's risk it." She reached up to kiss him.


	97. Chapter 97

**Part 97**

Drinking coffee in the Gatehouse kitchen, Zander and Quinn checked out the cars that drove by. Quinn's car was still at the side of the Gatehouse, but not all that obvious to someone not looking. They saw Pete drive by – he honked as he drove out, seeing Zander in the doorway. Diana drove by, probably on an errand, in Rosa's car. Oksana drove by, waved at Zander, and went on out.

"Well, that was interesting," Quinn said. "Though not as interesting as work the other day. The only other time I came that close to hitting a patient was the one that wouldn't tell me his medical history last fall!"

"This wouldn't have been poor little Emily, would it?"

"She is out of ICU and down in a regular room. I went to check on her for a follow-up. Lucky came in."

"That must have been fun. Poor Quinn," he said, going over to sit by her at the table.

"The conversation got around to you, of course. Now she observes, most legalistically, that you and she didn't break up for a real reason. Technically, she says, you are still in love!"

Zander laughed. "Technically, I never want to see her again. Technically, I am crazy about her nurse."

Quinn laughed a little, too, but said, "What she must be thinking is how it would be if she hadn't written her letter."

"No, it would have come out the same, somehow or other."

"Do you believe that?" Quinn smiled.

"Yes."

"I do too," Quinn answered, feeling happy. "From my side too, if it hadn't happened with Paul falling head over heels suddenly for Elizabeth."

He reached over and stroked her hair a little bit, gave her a kiss, and then said, "I had thought I was so lucky to have Emily, and didn't deserve it, and it is strange I should have you and feel less that way than more that way. She can't hold a candle to you. But I feel better about you. I hope you take this right, Quinn," he added, suddenly, as if he had caught himself making a mistake.

"I understand. I'm glad about that. I want you to feel secure about me. Not undeserving like that. I don't think anybody can be happy seeing it that way. And you're further from drug dealing and being alone and don't feel as bad about yourself."

"I'm further from dealing, and I have a family and a job, but it doesn't matter. It is that I feel like you know me much better. I know you much better. It's not a game. If somebody says something, you tell me. And you're not concerned that Little Emily will intrude because she's – technically – " he laughed, "still in love. She wants to prove she is in the right, that's all. She wants you and I to feel guilty about being happy when she's a victim of her family or me. She doesn't get the idea of love any more than I used to."

"I hope she can't get to you with guilt, though. Suppose she wants you back and starts on all that stuff you did to her, or so they say you did to her. Can she get you to do anything she wants with that?"

"No, Quinn! Besides, I'll be too busy defending you from the same thing. Believe it or not, it will soon be your fault, too. You know how they think."

"My opinion is biased, I know, but I think you are much happier with me, and if you have gotten over it all, or forgiven yourself, you want to be happy. You'd only pick her if you felt you didn't deserve to be happy."

"Quinn! There's no question of that! I could do a hundred other things to her before I'd do a single thing to you! You understand, don't you?"

"Yes. Funny, Paul told me once you would be insecure, and I'd better reassure you a lot. Maybe I need more of that than you do!"

"No, I do! No doubt of it. But if you need any, just ask."

"Paul isn't after me any more, but Emily may be after you."

"Paul isn't the only guy in the world, you know, Quinn. I still don't know how I have this beautiful, smart, sexy woman with a big heart, and a sense of humor. I don't want to let Little Emily guilt me into giving her so much as the time of day, you remember that! You will, won't you?"

"OK, if you promise no matter what you hear, you will check with me first, like you did when she told you way back that the hospital gossip mill said I wasn't serious about you. See how that gossip mill works? It was wonderful you told me rather than let it get to you."

"I'm glad I thought of it, then."

"Which reminds me of something else she asked me about. Some comment that arose out of that. She was surprised I was still seeing you and wanted to know if I was really serious. I don't know why I didn't tell her it was none of her business. I told her I didn't know. But that was the way I had of telling her it was none of her business without being cold to a patient."

"It is technically none of her business, and I will tell you anything she says to me about that, if she gets the chance."

She took his hand from where it now rested on her shoulder, kissed it and gave it back to him. Then she put her arm around his shoulders and hugged him. "You can think very well," she said. "Don't let people continue to tell you different."

After having his employees make inquiries, Edward Quartermaine realized that Sergei K, as he had come to think of him, was staying on and off at the Port Charles Hotel. A hotel Edward's family owned.

Edward went to the suite forthwith to inform this Russian pirate that he should cease his activities immediately. Kicking a paying guest out of the hotel was too low class for Edward to do more than fantasize about.

Sergei was not in his room. He was drinking coffee downstairs. Upon inquiry, one of the maids came up to Edward. She knew who Sergei was, and pointed him out to Edward.

Edward sat down, surprised to see a man not as much younger than himself as he had pictured Sergei to be, having assumed he was around the same age as Zander's mother.

"Are you Sergei Kansh, Ketchup, Kas,"

"Kanishchev. Call me Sergei," he said, standing up and shaking hands with Edward.

"I'm Edward Quartermaine," Edward said, as if that explained his presence and his approach.

"What can I do for you?" Sergei asked.

"First off, you can keep your hands off my company."

"What company?"

"You know very well what I am talking about," Edward said.

"Please sit down," Sergei said, pleasantly, "Would you like some coffee?"

"No thank you."

"What is the name of your company?"

"ELQ, as if you didn't know. You may think you can undercut that mobster Corinthos. But ELQ you cannot undercut."

"OK," Sergei said. "I got your opinion. Do you want to undercut that mobster Corintis?"

"Of course. And we are handling that, and were handling it, before and without you," Edward said, getting up, as if his speeches had taken care of the matter, "And by the way, keep your son away from my granddaughter."

"Huh?" Sergei asked.

"That deviant caused her enough trouble last year."

"That what?"

"Your son."

"Which son? I have two."

"I don't know about that. I'm talking about the one you call Zander Smith."

"Oh, OK. What granddaughter?"

"Emily, of course."

"Of course. I never hear of no Emily, so he must be staying away from her. If he's not, I will ask him to."

"You tell him to." Edward Quartermaine marched out.

Emily was reading in the living room when Reginald showed V. Ardanowski in. "Hi," she said, in a friendly tone. "I want to ask you a few questions about the accident."

"OK," Emily said, warily, putting the book down.

"When you left the house where the party was, what time was it?"

"I have no idea."

"Whose idea was it to leave?"

"Mine. I had a headache."

"In spite of that, you wanted to drive the car?"

Emily shifted a little. "Yes. I thought AJ looked tired."

"Who drove?"

"AJ, of course."

"Where did the accident happen?"

"Where the cops found the car."

"Do you remember for yourself where it was?"

"On Lake Road, a little way from Nicholas' house."

"Did you notice AJ going off the road?"

"No. I wasn't paying attention to the road. I don't remember any of this. I fell asleep, I think, because all I can remember is leaving the house and then waking up in the hospital."

"Did you talk to AJ during the ride, before the accident?"

"If I did, I don't remember it."

"Are you recovered now?"

"I'm stiff, and I get headaches, but I'm all right."

"Here is my card. Call me if you remember anything. Sometimes the more the injury heals up, the more you can remember."

"All right."

Sergei and Zander were at the Outback for dinner that evening, with Alexis. Sergei told them of that morning's run in with Edward Quartermaine. 

"First, he says keep my hands off his company, and I know which one," Sergei said.

"Which one would that be?" Alexis said, with a big smile.

"I dunno. He says we are putting our hands on his company ELQ."

"If he says so," Alexis grinned.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, whatever it is?" Zander asked Sergei.

"It must be," Sergei answered his son. "He noticed it."

Alexis laughed.

Jerry came over to them with a fresh crab meat appetizer, straight from Maryland, he said.

"Always the Jax way," Alexis smiled. "Imports from everywhere."

Jerry told them he was going to import from Russia just for them. "Whatever you want, you describe it to Alexis," he said to Sergei and Zander. "She doesn't know enough about it," he said, walking off. "I'm going to get some wine."

"I'm slipping, Alexis," Zander said. "On your Russian heritage. Maybe not so much on your social life, though. How does Jerry know you don't know?"

"What, I'm socializing with Jerry, you think?"

"Well, why not?"

"Indeed?" Alexis asked, ruffling his hair. "So you like Jerry?"

"Yes. Quinn does, too."

"Look at this! They're happy, now they want everyone else to be!"

Sergei smiled. "I hope they do not want the Quartermaine family happy too. If they do, they take on too big a job. No one can do that one. Not even a big committee can do that one. The miserable guy also tells me to tell you, son, stay away from his granddaughter Emily."

Zander waved a hand. "Done, Dad," he said. "And it has been for a long, long time. They have such big egos, they can't believe I voluntarily stay away."

"What you did to his granddaughter Emily, anyway Sander?" Sergei asked.

"It's a long story," Alexis piped up. "The end of it is, he got Emily to fall for him, big time, which her family did not like. Sander here was trouble back then. I can testify to that. Then I got him out of jail, or so they see it, so they tried getting him back in with a trumped up case. Or no, it was a made up case. Made up out of whole cloth. Have you heard that expression, Sergei? It is the same as making up something out of thin air. Creating it from nothing, that is."

"What case they made up?"

"Edward, the one you talked to. He went to the hospital, claiming I beat him up."

"He even bought a witness," Alexis said. "And went to the hospital, having an alleged heart attack."

"That guy look and talk like he is in the middle of a heart attack every minute," Sergei said.

Zander laughed.

"He was released without heart problems, and later got caught when his son looked at his medical records, and saw no record of any traumatic injury," Alexis explained. "So you see the type you're dealing with, Sergei. He's not above cheating. He framed your son to try to get him in jail. He might do it again to get at you."

"And they say this Corintas is the criminal!" Sergei said, looking amazed.

Zander liked it when Danny asked him if he wanted to go out and play arcade games and get a pizza. He didn't take Tim and Brad, either. Zander thought it was really nice of Danny to spend time with him like this. 

They were playing pin-ball, and Danny vowing to beat him, yet Zander won, but Zander thought Danny let him win. "I just can't beat you," Danny claimed. Zander smiled, suspecting that Tim and Brad and - maybe even Quinn - had been similarly unbeatable in the past.

The arcade opened out onto the dock, and Alan Quartermaine passed by with Emily. They were going out to dinner at Diego's. Emily was out of the hospital and doing well. The cook had the night off, and everyone else had some sort of plan. Alan saw and recognized Danny, and Zander. He didn't point this out to Emily, who walked on the farther side. He felt a certain regret, remembering how much Emily had liked Zander. Regardless of his own disapproval, he had recognized the way she had felt.

For a little while, Zander was afraid some shoe would drop; he still had a hard time accepting the idea that Danny and his family didn't want to get rid of him as the Quartermaines had. It was an ideal time to tell Zander to take a hike.

But time went on and all of Danny's conversation was light or amusing. He only mentioned Quinn to tease her. Zander tried to relax and have a good time as he was sure Danny wanted him to.

They sat down at Diego's, talking of the Nextel cup and Jeff Gordon's chances of winning it all.

Emily saw Zander as she and Alan were leaving, and pointed him out to Alan. "Who is that Zander is with?" she asked.

Alan was taking his credit card out of his wallet. He looked back, seeing the same two he had seen in the arcade. "That's Quinn's father," he answered. "Zander's girlfriend's father."

"Oh," Emily said, glancing back quickly again.

"I'm sorry, honey," he said, as they left. "I never thought of that. Too busy, and too much going on. It would have given me some chance to get to know Zander. If I had only thought of it. Almost too simple, so I never did."

"You guys did all you could to protect me from Zander," Emily said, "Don't feel bad, Dad."

"I should have learned more about what I was protecting you from," Alan said. "Then I might have realized that the threat was minor rather than major. I never thought about his family, for instance, until your mom needed his medical history. Yet if I had taken a second to think about it, I'd have realized that of course he had to have come from somewhere."

"Yeah, well, he never told us," Emily said. "There must have been some reason. I guess because his father's a criminal. Grandfather said he was."

"It can't have been that by itself. Zander was in jail himself, so why be embarrassed the old man was in jail? There must be more to it than that. I'm sorry I never found out."

"Oh, Dad," Emily said, rolling her eyes. "If you had tried to find Zander's father, it would have been to work together with him to get Zander away."

Alan smiled. "At the time, maybe, but who knows? I might have learned to be less hard on Zander. I still think I should have found out more. There was so much going on."

"Never mind, Dad," Emily said.

Lucky was on an out of the office project – he was looking for gardens and lawns in and on which to shoot pictures of models. He had an idea for submitting a piece to the Port Charles Magazine - "Landscaping in Port Charles," he would call it, or some such thing. Deception would get its name into this piece, somehow, because its ad campaign would have a similar name referring to Deception in the Gardens of Port Charles.

He had a list of places to start: the park, where the city maintained certain landscaping of interest, stuff that would look familiar to the average resident, PCU, which had landscaping and gardens, then the estates of the wealthy. His half-brother's family's house, of course, on its own island, would be a major site for landscaping. He knew the Quartermaines. He could do Oksana's. With these behind him, the Barringtons and other wealthy people would want to be included, too.

He decided to start with Oksana's, since she was already tied to Deception.

He went to Oksana's office to arrange for this. Oksana was there more nowadays, it seemed.

She said she would let Rosa, who was apparently in charge at her house, know.

So when he drove up to the gatehouse and pressed the button for the intercom, he explained who he was and what he was doing. They buzzed him in.

He parked in a big circular driveway area.

Sheesh! He said to himself. I never would have guessed in a million years, way back, that this was the type of place Zander would have grown up in.

He walked around for awhile, then came upon a flower garden. He decided to take a few pictures of it.

He was standing there putting film in his camera when he heard a girl's voice. "I can show you around if you want."

He looked up. He saw a pretty, dark haired girl, who wore overalls and had a rake in her hand. He thought to himself it would be a pretty good photograph if he could take a picture of her as she was.

"You work for Oksana?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm the gardener," she said.

"You're awfully young for a gardener."

"How old is a gardener supposed to be?"

Lucky smiled, then shrugged his shoulders.

"Anyway," she said, "Oksana told me that I should show you around if you needed any help."

"Why thanks," he said. "I was thinking of taking a picture of this flower garden. It looks pretty nice."

"That's a wildflower garden."

"Really. It looks kind of orderly, for that."

"Why shouldn't it be orderly?"

"Oh, just the word, wildflowers, I guess."

"It only means they occur in nature. Not that they have to look wild."

"Never know that. What are those?" he pointed to a bunch of white colored flowers.

"Bloodroot."

He snapped a picture. "They are so light. Why are they called that?"

"I think there is a blood red juice that Native Americans extracted from the root to use to dye fabric. Or for body paint for warriors and young maidens."

"Interesting. What are those?"

"Virginia bluebells. Hepatica."

He took a few more pictures. He looked back, and she was still standing there.

"I'm Lucky Spencer. What's your name?"

"Lisa. Lisa Benitez."

"We kind of have the same employer."

"Yes."

"You could stand in for a model."

She looked a little shy. "You mean stand where they would when you take their pictures?"

"Sure. Right over there, say, in front of the bloodroots."

She put the rake down, and went to where he pointed.

He picked up the rake and handed it back to her. "Keep this," he said. "It makes a good prop."

She shrugged and took it. She was a real trooper, he thought.

He took a few pictures. Used to working with models, he told her to smile, then asked her to hold the rake a certain way.

"You're a good model," he said.

"Except I don't look like one."

"Oh, I don't know about that. Before they get all their make up on and spend an age with the hair people, they look pretty much like you. Or not as good."

She smiled, a little hesitantly.

She showed him around the grounds.

"Tennis courts!" Lucky exclaimed. "Do they even use them?"

"The boys do – they play a lot."

"You mean Zander, and his brother?"

"Of course."

"Man, I can hardly believe this is Zander's family's house. How he kept his background hidden so long amazes me. Especially when it's like this. I mean, it's not the type of background people normally hide."

"No."

"Do you know him very well?"

"Not myself, but my aunt does. She was the nanny for Sander and Peter. She loves them. Thinks a lot of them."

"Well, I met the drug dealing version, but I guess someone who knew his when he was an innocent little kid wouldn't think too much of that."

"My aunt thinks he must have been in pretty bad straits to have gotten involved in things like that."

"Heck, he could have gone home."

"It was more complicated than that, I think."

"Hard to imagine what would be so bad you'd give up this kind of life, but everyone is different, I guess. Hey – would you mind posing in front of that bench, Lisa? Lisa, isn't it?"


	98. Chapter 98

**Part 98**

"Q. really likes you, Sandy," Peter said, hitting Zander on the back as they walked back to the house from the tennis courts. "She comes over so early in the morning to visit you," he added with a mischievous smile.

Zander looked heavenward, with a slight grin.

In the house, Rosa poured them glasses of ice water. 

"Yeah, you're a lucky guy, Sander," Peter said. "Q. is a dream of a girl."

"_She's_ lucky!" Rosa insisted.

Zander smiled. He went over and hugged her.

"I get that only for saying that!" Rosa exclaimed. "I didn't know it was that easy!"

"It's for thinking that, whether or not it is true," Zander said. "I remember with Emily, everybody thought I was lucky and even thought I was terrible and should stay away. Not a soul said she was lucky."

"That's why you need your family around," Rosa said. "I saw this Reginald, in the grocery store, and he said they were all in a tizzy all the time to get rid of you. I told him that made no sense whatever. He said you could knock him over with a feather your family was living in the neighborhood. He thought you were a punk. I almost took a tomato from the bin to throw it at him."

"Did he tell you they eat pizza for Thanksgiving?" Zander asked.

"No, why would he admit a thing like that?"

"It's not his family that is doing it."

"Who would work for a family that did a thing like that?" Rosa asked.

Pete laughed. "That would be worse than working for a crime lord!"

"This lady I ran into who works for Mrs. Barrington said criminal underlords own part of their company. ELQ, it is called. It is not on the up and up," Rosa informed them.

Zander's eyes flew open. "You don't miss much, do you, Rosa? And neither do the other people working in these houses!"

"No, so you best be on your good behavior."

"How do you get ready for a test?" Zander asked Quinn, sitting with her for a cup of coffee at Kelly's.

"A test like this, relax. Get your mind calm. Nothing you study at this point can do anything to improve your knowledge. It can only get you nervous. That was the advice for the SAT. And the Nursing Boards. You've never had a test like this, before, have you?"

"No."

"How do you feel?"

"OK. Good."

"Would it be better to stay at your place alone, at your place with me, or at my place with me?"

"What shift are you on?"

"Never mind that. This is a one time thing for you. I'll deal."

"My place, with you, if that's OK."

"OK."

Edward Quartermaine and Ned were sitting across the room. Quinn noticed them from where she was sitting.

"Wonderful," Zander said. "How much are you willing to bet on, one, that we can't go unnoticed, and two, that if they see me, we can't escape some snide comment?"

"Not much," Quinn said. "That Grandfather looks around like a hawk. He doesn't miss a thing. Must be how he got where he did in life."

"Which is where?" Zander said. "Dad thinks he is a heart attack in the making."

"Your Dad? Has he met Grandfather Quartermaine?"

"Yeah, and it looks like Dad is crossing him in some business matter."

"Mr. Quartermaine is so grouchy acting, but maybe that is how he doesn't have a heart attack. He doesn't keep it all in."

"Right, nurse! He lets it all hang out! He unloads it all onto somebody else! As your Dad would say, you got it! You're a smart one! The way my Dad put it fits in, too. He said something like, he looks like he's having a heart attack every day!"

"Yeah, Sandy, he's having a little bit of his heart attack every day. It's the people who save it all for one day who get killed from it!"

They paid their check and left, and were standing out front deciding whether to go and walk in the park for awhile or go to the gate house when the door opened for Edward and Ned.

"Oh, no, here goes," Zander whispered to Quinn. "I wonder if it will be business instead of Emily, this time."

"Well if it isn't the Port Charles hoodlum," Edward said. He shook his finger at Zander. "If you think putting your criminal father up to these shenanigans is going to get back at us, think again."

"You think I have anything to say about Dad's business?" Zander asked. "What do I have to get back at you for?"

Edward ignored that, and walked off as if he were too big a person to get into any argument. Ned said, "Because we finally convinced Emily you were worthless."

"Emily again," Zander answered. "I knew you'd get back to that. Get it through your heads. Your efforts are worthless. I have no interest in Emily. If you aren't really good at running your business, Dad will grind you into the ground. It will be only your fault. Because you were slack on your business. And it will be only about that."

Ned walked off as though he were too was too big a guy to get involved in such an argument.

"How can they call other people worthless?" Quinn asked to herself, aloud.

"Maybe I'll ask Dr. Baldwin to explain it," Zander said. "It is probably some psychological explanation."

"They think themselves worthless, and project it," Quinn suggested.

"I'll bet that is it," Zander answered. "You did learn something from your shrink boyfriend, nurse."

"Ex-boyfriend."

"Let's go and see if Sergei Kanishchev is in," Zander said. "I wonder if he has been kicked out of the Port Charles Hotel."

"OK," Quinn said. "Let's see if Grandfather has kicked him out!"

Sergei was not only still staying there, he was in.

"I can stop if you want, Sander," he said.

"Oh no," Zander said, "They'll always talk to me like that, Dad. I told them it was business only. They're the ones that try to make it personal."

"Doesn't it feel just a little bit good?" Quinn asked Zander. "Sort of a little fun, maybe, having a Dad who can annoy the Quartermaines that much?"

"No, not really. It only gives them something to say to me they wouldn't have had otherwise. They would still have said something, I'm pretty sure. It would have been about something else, is all."

"Well, I wouldn't blame you if you enjoyed it just a little bit," Quinn said. "Even I do, just a little."

"Do you think what Alexis said right?" Sergei asked. "He will do something to you, Sander, though it is just business?"

"Maybe," Zander said. "I don't know what he could do, now, though. He can't frame me for anything. I have an alibi for about any time of day. Maybe he could go to the University and try to pull strings. Tell them not to let me in."

"Did he go there?" Quinn asked. "If he is not an alumni, and unless he makes big, huge donations, he might not have any strings."

"I don't know," Zander said. "Funny, I know very little about them, either. As Emily knew nothing about me."

"All they know about is Emily," Quinn said. "And all Emily knows about is Emily. Well, Mom and Dad are alumni of that place. Don't think they make any contributions, though! Nothing significant."

"Grandfather Quartermaine is all hot air," Zander said. "I wonder if they would even listen to him on a thing like that. And he'd have to make a big contribution."

"I'll make a big contribution," Sergei said.

"You do enough for me, Dad," Zander said.

"Good for business," Sergei countered.

"True!" Quinn said. "A benevolent reputation in the community! I wonder if ELQ even has that. I don't know a lot of people who work for ELQ."

"I don't think anybody works there, hardly anybody, who isn't a family _member_," Zander said.

"I don't know anybody who does, either," Quinn said. "I would have thought it was a huge company, though. I guess I figured the employees all worked somewhere else. In another city."

"They owned one of the cranes, is all I remember," Zander said. "Somebody must work there. But you're right, Quinn, most of them might be in some other city. That wouldn't stop the Quartermaines from talking as if they own this one, though."

"They don't own any city," Sergei said. "They own a falling company. They weren't careful enough. Criminals own part of it. You gotta keep the mob out of your company, or they can bring it down."

"So you've done that, Dad?"

"Pretty well. Where I didn't, the company failed. Where I did, the companies did good. You learn the symptoms."

"Symptoms of criminals working in your company?" Quinn asked, looking interested.

"Sure. Bad reports. No reports. Slow to get tax returns. Slow paperwork on stuff. Guys who hang around but aren't on the payroll. People that you want to talk to that always happen to be out of town when you want to talk to them."

"I could see that kind of stuff getting by the Quartermaines," Zander said.

"Especially when they are so busy trying to manage each other's personal lives," Quinn said.

Zander laughed. "Or spying around the hospital," he added.

"Fancy seeing you here," Joanna said. She was waiting in the waiting room at Baldwin & Baldwin, when she saw AJ come out from the inner sanctum of lawyers' offices, back to the waiting room. "Usually I see you lurking around the hospital. You lurk around law firms, too?"

"Yes, I do," he flashed his most brilliant smile, as he stepped up to the window. He began to write a check. As he handed it to the receptionist, he looked back at Joanna. "Let me guess. You are here about your divorce."

"Yes. Melinda Delaney is my attorney."

"Mine too. What a coincidence."

"I would have thought you had everything all wrapped up," Joanna said.

"Mostly it is, but I wanted to find out what would happen if we did any voluntary visits or if we even should," AJ answered. "I wanted Michael to see his mother, even there, so she wouldn't be a stranger to him, totally."

"Well, you could blow me over with a feather."

AJ smiled. "See, I am not all bad. I finally got a clue to think of Michael first. Of course, my entire family is against it, and thinks I am insane. Even Emily, who to this very day still thinks Carly should have custody."

"Even after she shot you?" Joanna exclaimed. "Or, er, tried to shoot you and hit Zander instead?"

"Well, with her it's more that if I had not fought about it, Carly would not have tried to shoot me. Which is true as far as it goes, but it's pretty ridiculous in the long run, to argue that I should have stayed away from my son forever or be shot at, and then once shot at, should never let the person see the child, whom originally was going to be the only one to see the child. Emily is smart, but she's still young, I guess. She doesn't understand the big stuff. Just the school stuff."

"I'm confused. I'll just accept that your whole family thinks you are crazy."

AJ took his receipt from the receptionist. He sat down for a minute next to Joanna. "I hope you don't have anything big still in issue," he said.

"It is just some wrap up stuff about the property," Joanna said. "I got a new house, and we finally got the old one sold. For awhile, Charlie wanted me to stay in the old one. But I could not qualify for a big enough loan alone. So I got a new place. It is smaller, but it's all mine."

"How do you like that? That must be a good feeling."

"Yes, I like it a lot. Smaller places that are all yours and you feel pretty sure you can afford are all right. Better than bigger places that your ex feels like he has some interest in and like he can direct what you do, because you still have the house."

"Oh, does old Charlie still try to boss you?"

"Yep," Joanna smiled. "You would be amazed. The nerve of the man. But I won't complain to you. At least he isn't shooting at me."

AJ smiled. "Carly is a special breed. She really gets carried away with things. And I had thought Zander was bad. But he is starting to look relatively benign. Life is funny that way. I thought Emily was the unlucky one, here it turns out I was much worse off. I never dreamed Carly would end up doing the things she did. She got worse while Zander got better."

"You didn't have any hint she was violent?"

"Little things. But nothing that would suggest it was anything serious, or could turn lethal. Maybe it wouldn't have happened if her new husband was somebody other than a career criminal."

"She wouldn't have found a gun so easy?"

"Yeah. Or wouldn't have seen murder as the easy way to eliminate her problems."

"How do these people manage to stay out of jail? He's still out."

"Who knows? It sure is hard to understand how they do it. Everybody knows he is a criminal. Nobody can catch him at it. He even owns part of our company."

A secretary poked her head out. "Ms. Delaney will see you now," she said to Joanna.

"Good luck," AJ said, "See you."

"Thanks, same to you," Joanna answered. "See you next time you're lurking around somewhere."

He laughed and went out the waiting room door. Joanna followed the secretary.

Quinn and Zander were laying in his bed in the gatehouse. She was reading to him out of James Joyce, which strangely, seemed to soothe him quite a bit. Eventually, he was asleep. She looked down and smiled, stopped reading and turned the lights out. She felt sure he would get a good night's sleep, the best preparation for a test like this. 

In the morning she went across the hall to get him breakfast; she had insisted on being there to help with the perfect breakfast with all the minerals and vitamins and orange juice. You always had to insist with him, he was always going to do things on his own first. She smiled fondly to herself at how his way was generally not the best idea. Fortunately, he was reasonable when you tried to persuade him, so long as you had a reasonable case for your side. 

So they ate their perfect breakfast and sat in the lobby area waiting for Amanda, who had earned the privilege of driving him over to PCU, where the test was given, making sure he got there OK and all that. "It's much easier when you don't have to hassle with little things, like where to park," Quinn had said. Zander knew that, since Alexis had thought so since he had been driving her around.

When Amanda pulled up, Quinn kissed Zander for good luck. "Thanks, nurse," he said, "I'm sure that'll do it."

"You'll do it," she laughed. "You'll do fine."

She sat there for awhile, after Amanda pulled away with Zander in the car. She noticed then that Oksana was driving out. She looked every inch the wealthy woman today, in her expensive sunglasses and tailored suit, driving her white Mercedes. She stopped the car.

"Good morning," she said. "Is Sander still there?"

Quinn explained that Amanda had already taken him off.

"Oh, I wanted to wish him luck," she said. "I forgot last night."

"Everything looks good," Quinn said. "I made sure he had some orange juice and all of the daily essential vitamins."

Oksana smiled. "Thank you! We were only now thinking of that up at the house."

"Any time!" 

"See you later," Oksana put her window up and drove away.

At the office, Lucky Spencer came to see Oksana.

"I was out at the Quartermaines, and going around their garden," he said. "The old gardener hardly knew what was there. I don't understand it. Anyway, over your place, your gardener was a big help. Could you spare her to help me in the other gardens?"

"You think she can be useful?"

"Yes. If we label the photos we end up taking, or know what we're taking them near, we have more information for the spread. We're not going to attract customers who are otherwise intrigued with the garden end of it unless we know what we are talking about."

"True. Try with her at one place and if she's any help in gardens other than her own, she can go to the rest of them with you, too."

"Thanks Oksana. This is going to help this project be a success, I'm sure."


	99. Chapter 99

**Part 99**

Zander was watching Pete's baseball game at Mercy High School. He was taking a few days off. There had been no way around it. Quinn, Kathleen, Danny, Joe, Oksana, Amanda, Sergei, Pete, Tim, Brad and Dr. Baldwin had all agreed. Alexis had agreed too, and Rosa. He later learned, talking to Quinn, that Joanna Shields agreed. He had teased Quinn about finding out if Paul Whitman or Edward Quartermaine agreed.

It was the second inning. He was the only one there so far. He looked for any of the Connors to arrive; they came to the games as and when they could. He wondered if Oksana or Sergei would show up. Or even both. He noticed each of them was in town more these days. He had never known them to travel so little.

Tim was playing left field. Pete was playing third base.

"Hello," he heard, in Russian.

He looked up. Oksana was sitting down by him.

"Hi," he answered, in that language.

Oksana was trying to read the scoreboard. "Inning, 2. R, is that runs?"

"Yes."

"No runs, either team. What is H?"

"Hits."

"One hit, home team."

"That was the first baseman. Lou Domano. E is for errors. Where someone drops the ball."

"What is Peter? The third base man?"

"Very good. Tim is behind him in left field."

"So left or right is decided by someone off the field."

"Right. Must be, it was decided by looking onto the field from home plate."

A second later, Zander saw Sergei coming toward them. "Hello, son," he said, sitting down on the other side of Zander. "Hello," he said to Oksana. She said hello. Zander felt as if he should introduce them.

Pete fielded the ball and threw it to the first baseman for an out. The inning was over.

"What happened?" Oksana asked.

Zander explained.

Pete was the first one at bat. He managed to sink a hit into right field. Zander explained that.

The next batter struck out, but the next one hit a long single, from which Pete managed to get to third.

Tim came up. He hit a line drive straight to the second basemen, who went to field it, but bobbled it. Pete ran for home plate and slide into it just in time.

"He stole home!" Oksana clapped.

Zander smiled. "No Mom, it is an error."

"An air?"

"The second baseman dropped the ball."

"So then Pete scored the run."

"It is on an error, when the fielder dropped the ball, because if he had fielded it, he would have thrown Pete out."

"They do not know that."

"Well, that is how they record it."

"A bunch of rules," Sergei said.

The Connors came with Joe and Brad. They sat on the bleacher behind Zander and his parents.

"Pete stole home," Oksana told them.

"No, he got there on an error," Sergei said.

"Dad's right," Zander told them.

"It looked like he stole home to me," Oksana said. "He ran and slided."

"I think I would probably agree," Kathleen said. "I'm not interested in those fine points, either."

"Sander used to steal these bases, a lot, a long time ago," Oksana said. "I couldn't go to many games. When I did, someone would tell me look, he stole a base."

"Hey, now you are done with your GED test, Zander, you can get on a team somewhere," Joe said. "Quinn thinks sports will be fun for you."

"I've heard that," Zander said. He smiled. "I will surely hear it again. I can start looking around now. But if the test results come out that I passed, we are going to work on placement tests for college credit and I am going to sign up for summer session at PCU. I don't want to waste any more time."

"It'll all work out," Kathleen said. "You need some sports in your life, too. Work off all that excess energy."

"Keep him out of trouble," Oksana nodded.

"I haven't been in any trouble," he retorted.

"I tease you," Oksana said.

"Oh," he said, a little cast down, as if he thought maybe he should have known that. But he quickly looked up. How should he have known?

"You like tennis, you should play," Oksana said. "That is how I really mean it."

"OK."

Jeremy Marshall came up. He was the big star on the team.

He hit a triple, and Tim ran in to score.

"Two to nothing!" Danny said, jubilantly.

"Go Mercy High!" Kathleen laughed. "Where's our cheerleader?"

"At work," Zander said. "You're doing all right though, Mrs. Connor."

"Where are the real ones?" Oksana asked.

"They don't come to baseball games," Zander said.

"Why not?"

"I don't know," said Zander.

"I don't either," Kathleen said. "Strange. The pace of the game, I guess."

"Were you a cheerleader, too, Mrs. Connor?" Zander asked Kathleen.

"No," Kathleen said. "I was on the yearbook committee, though. And the chess club. My extracurricular activities didn't tend to be sports."

"What were Danny's?" Zander asked.

"Hanging out and working on old cars. But if you say Danny to refer to Danny then you must call me Kathleen. I can't have Danny beating me to something for too long."

"OK," Zander smiled, "Kathleen. But if Danny was working on old cars, and you were working on the yearbook, how did you meet him?"

"I saw him in the school cafeteria one day, and he came over and started talking to me," Kathleen said.

"Oh, the famous love-at-first-site Quinn talks about."

"That's right," Kathleen smiled. "You know what a cynic Quinn is about that! But it is true, nevertheless!"

"I think that must be unusual," Oksana said.

"How did you meet; you and Sergei?" Kathleen asked.

"At an ice skating rink. The first thing he said to me was he wanted to talk to my coach about something I was doing wrong."

Zander listened intently. He knew they had met that way, but had never heard before that Sergei had noticed something Oksana was doing wrong in skating.

"How old were you?" Kathleen asked.

"Seventeen."

Zander heard the crack of a bat. He looked, and saw Pete fielding the ball and throwing it to first base for the out.

"Pete just got the batter out," Zander said to Oksana, absently.

"So no love at first sight?" Kathleen asked Oksana.

"No, no."

Sergei had been talking to the other guys. Kathleen reached over and tapped his shoulder. He turned around, smiling.

"What do you think of this, Sergei?" she asked. "Oksana said she first saw you when you criticized her skating."

Sergei stopped for a second, to think back. "Yes," he said. "She was sliding too much on her spins. I just been assigned to work on the group she was in. I had more experience than her coach, so I went to talk to him about it. He nodded and nodded and listened to me, and I still was looking at her and could not stop looking at her."

"She said it was not love at first sight."

"Maybe not to her, but I don't know, maybe to me it was."

"Come on," Oksana said. "No way it was. You talk to me about nothing but skating for at least a year."

"Well, heck, that doesn't mean he wasn't in love," Danny said, hearing the conversation, "it only means you didn't catch on to him, Oksana. He was playing it close to the vest."

"He never admits this before tonight," Oksana was saying, "he made it up, just now." Zander could see his father smiling. He did not know what to make of it.

Gia was annoyed again. V. had come out to ask questions about Emily on the evening of their engagement party. Sure enough, Gia thought, our engagement party has come to be about Emily.

Neither Gia nor Nicholas had not been able to remember a thing concerning Emily's leaving, or AJ's or Jason's. "I thought maybe Jason left on his own," Nicholas said. "I remember seeing him walk out. But there's a porch out there. Some people were out there, too. Maybe they saw something."

"Had she had anything to drink?"

"I remember Lucky getting her a glass of champagne," Gia said. "I didn't see her drink any of it, though. Not to say she didn't. I didn't see it, is all."

"She was fine, that way," Nicholas said.

"Were you talking to her in the last half hour before she left?" V. asked him.

"I'm not sure. Probably. I was wandering around, talking to everybody. But I've never seen Emily even tipsy."

"Maybe we should hire somebody to watch her," Gia told Nicholas, after V. had left. "At the wedding. Do we really want to risk things going wrong at the wedding because of some problem she has?"

"Everything will be fine," Nicholas insisted. "Lucky will be with her, remember, he is going to be her date."

"I hope he can take care of her," Gia said. "I don't want to have my wedding remembered for her driving off drunk and hurting somebody."

"There's no question of that," Nicholas said. "Emily wouldn't do a thing like that."

"That is what it sounded like V. was investigating," Gia said.

"If she is, she is barking up the wrong tree," Nicholas said. "Emily was fine that night. AJ and Jason were there! Why would she drive herself anywhere?"

"I don't know," Gia said. "But simply because she didn't have a good reason doesn't mean she didn't do it."

V. went out to the island, to ask Stefan and Stavros if they remembered anything. Walking from the dock to the house, she saw Lucky Spencer and a pretty girl in the garden.

"Hey, Lucky, I have some questions for you, which I may as well ask you now that you are here," V. said.

Lucky looked up from his camera, which he had been adjusting.

"What about?" he said, affecting an air of unconcern. His father had taught him to say as little as necessary to cops.

V. explained.

"I remember talking to Emily there, but I didn't see her leave," he said. "I got her a glass of champagne. I remember her drinking a little bit of it. No way was she under the influence. She was kind of tired, not in a really good mood. That was why she left early. But I thought her brother AJ took her. And he was driving, and he's driven drunk before. You should be asking about his drinking."

"There was no evidence that he had been drinking," V. said. "We were more concerned with the question of whether he was actually driving."

"He wouldn't let Emily drive that night, based on how quiet she was alone. If he thought she had something to drink, and he didn't, there is no way he would let her drive."

"That's what he says, too. Well, you may be right."

"Why are you guys even looking at it?" Lucky asked. "What other explanation could there be?"

"Oh, evidence," V. said. "Little things that don't add up. We only have to straighten them out for the files. No big deal."

She went on into the house.

Lucky and Lisa had been talking about music. He liked the blues, she liked Cuban music, but they both liked Ruben Gomez. She liked to sing.

"Do you really?" he asked, eyes aglow.

"Sure," she said. "Look over here! This is some rose garden! You could put a whole row of models here."

"Yes. And the sundial is a good prop."

"These have been laid out very professionally."

"Did you design Oksana's?"

"Oh no. I only keep them up. And do a little work on the landscaping, and take care of the pool and the tennis courts."

"Hey, I thought of something. Do you want to do a number with me for the Nurse's Ball?"

"A song?"

"Yeah. I sing in it every year, but I'm always trying to vary the approach. We can make a duet out of something you like. I can play it on the guitar."

"I'd like to. Sure."

" Do you play any instrument?"

"Guitar."

"No kidding! You can play too if you want."

"That'll be fun."

"OK. Do you want to hang out here any more or go on to the Barrington garden?"

"Let's go to the Barringtons. I've been curious to see it."

"I was on the porch, talking to Stefan," Stavros said. "I thought I remembered AJ leaving at the same time as Jason, but I don't have a real clear memory of it. It wasn't something I was paying close attention to. I just remember the two of them going off, but they could have been going for a walk for all I know, or one of them could have come back and I didn't see that."

"OK, sure," V. said. "How about Emily? Did you notice her state? Tipsy? Weaving? Or sober?"

"I couldn't say," Stavros answered. "I didn't notice her enough to say one way or another. I didn't see anything egregious."

"And you?" she directed this to Stefan.

"No, I didn't see anything obvious about her either," Stefan answered. "Though I too think AJ and Jason went together, and I thought I heard something about going after her. I don't know who they meant by 'her,' though. I don't know what they meant by going after her, either."

"The inference is clear," V. said. "But you're right, it's not certain. Well, thanks for your help."

Tim was playing chords, warming up, and teasing Quinn about what song she might want to do. "Something hippie," Joanna said. She was there, helping. They decided to look through Danny and Kathleen's music. "They're old enough to have something from that era," Quinn observed.

"We are like Peter, Paul and Mary, remember," Joanna said.

"OK, they have some of those," Quinn started looking through old records. "What are we, Peter, Paula and Mary?"

"Yup," Tim said.

"I found out AJ has the same lawyer as I do," Joanna said.

"Weird, wouldn't he have the most expensive one?"

"You'd think, with all that extra trouble. What an awful case that must have been."

"I guess that is a pretty good firm. I remember Sean talking to them when he was here."

"What about, was he going to work for them?"

"I think there was some interest in clerking there for the summer. But we ended up in Kentucky for the summer."

"Well, old AJ was friendly as ever," Joanna said. "I wonder if he can do anything at the Nurse's Ball. Something were he could be useful to the hospital."

"Yeah! Now as to our number, what will we do about our costume? Mom can help."

Tim was dispatched to bring Kathleen into the room.

"We need bell-bottoms, all three of us. Headbands," Quinn was surmising.

"I don't know," Kathleen said, as she came in, hearing them. "You are more folksy than hippie. Headbands and love beads might be too much. Long skirts, maybe?"

"I'd like that," Joanna said. "Maybe Tim can wear a fake beard."

"Hmmm," Tim said. "Interesting."

"Where could we find things like this, a thrift store?" Joanna asked Kathleen.

"I don't know. We might not find anything nowadays. They wear flares now, sometimes, no? I never thought that style would come back in again."

"Maybe we don't need that," Quinn said. "Look at the pictures of Mary on the albums. She wore a simple sleeveless black number most of the time."

"Oh, a sort of Greenwich Village folk scene look, that's it!" Kathleen exclaimed. "We were thinking later in the sixties."

Joanna was looking at the albums. "If we really work on getting our hair to look like that," she said. "We could really pass for this look."

"Come on," Tim said. "Let's work on these songs. Doesn't matter what you look like if you don't know what you're singing."

"Yes sir, Bob Dylan!" Quinn said. 

"Let's do 'Blowin' in the Wind'!" Joanna suggested.

"OK," Tim said. "I'm game."

"This is going to be very interesting," Kathleen declared.

Zander, Alexis and Jerry were watching a race at the Port Charles Motor Speedway, in which Paul and Quinn were driving. Elizabeth sat down next to him.

"Hey," she said.

"Hi," he answered. He looked back at the cars.

"Do you ever worry?" she asked. "It looks dangerous."

"No. Quinn knows what she is doing. I don't think she cares about winning enough to take unnecessary risks. It's for fun."

"Paul, too. It still looks dangerous to me, though. Even if they are doing it only for fun."

"More dangerous than windsurfing. Maybe not much more than skiing, I suppose."

"Maybe. With all that metal out there, too, though. Oh, well. I think Quinn is ahead of him again."

"Does that bother him?"

"No, I don't think so. It seems to make him far more nervous to think of singing at the nurse's ball."

"Are you still doing all those colonial costumes?"

"We have Carly to work on that, believe it or not. She has some ability to design and sew."

"They let her near a needle?"

"Near a sewing machine, supervised."

"Would she do something for sixties folksingers? Quinn and them need that for their number at the nurse's ball. They keep talking about who or where they're going to get that together."

"I'll ask her. She would probably like it. She is good at this."

"Is it calming her down?"

"I think it is, believe it or not. She is rational to talk to, anyway."

They watched the track for awhile.

"Well, Elizabeth," Zander said, "it looks like Quinn will surely come in ahead of Paul."

"Better luck next time!" Alexis yelled after Elizabeth, as she smiled, and got up to go.

"Thanks, how helpful," Quinn to Zander, when he told her how the idea had occured to him to ask Elizabeth about their costumes. "How did you even know to ask that?"

"You and Joanna talked about it when we were in Kelly's the other day," he said.

"I don't even remember talking about it. You've got a good memory, you know? I think you will do so well in college."

"Thank you, Madam Encourager. What would I do without you?"

"More like you used to do, I think. This is why I am the one for you. One of the reasons."

He put his arms around her. "Oh, I know that," he said. "I am glad to hear you say that. I only hope I do you any good."

"Of course you do. It's hard to put a finger on, but you do. So believe that, OK? Like your remembering that about the costume. Not the convenience that you remembered, but that you would, or did, something about, I don't know. You pay attention to some things that make a person feel like they matter."

"Now," he said, pushing her hair back a little, "I noticed you beat Dr. Paul."

"I did? I didn't even notice!"

"I was sitting with Elizabeth, so we were competing. She claims he doesn't mind you beating him."

Quinn smiled. "I'm glad I've got a cheerleader."

They were leaving to go to Indianapolis soon. The Connors had gotten another van for nine people to make the trip.

Zander was looking forward to it. He threw some clothes into a bag and headed up to the main house to see if Pete was ready to go.

Rosa said he had already gone.

"How can that be?" Zander was puzzled. "I swore I told him to wait for me. We don't need to take two cars over there."

"You must," Rosa laughed.

When he went out the front door, he saw the keys to the Porsche and the little signs proclaiming it to be his.

Quinn. Indianapolis. This Porsche. He sighed.

He took the keys and went out to get the car.

When he pulled up in the driveway at the Connor's, no one was outside. He decided they would prefer a show, and hit the horn. But there must have been too much talking inside the house, because they didn't seem to hear. He didn't like the idea of laying on the horn.

So he pulled back out of the driveway and then went halfway around the block. He stopped to call Quinn's cell phone.

Fortunately, she answered. He felt foolish for a second.

"Go outside," he said.

"OK," she giggled.

He pulled away from the curb. He was happy that she didn't ask him why, for some reason. He turned back onto the Connor's street. He had to admit the car handled like a dream. Quinn was going to love driving it.

When he pulled back into the driveway with the car, Quinn was on the front steps. She ran up to him on the driver's side.

"You brought your car!" she hugged him. "How do you like it?"

"It runs like a dream. Of course."

"Of course it does."

They looked at each other for a minute.

"Here," he said, giving her the keys, "take me for a ride."

She took them, but said, "Oh, no! You drive, and I ride."

"I want you to drive it."

"It's your car!"

"You can drive my car."

"Later, sure. Right now I want to be the passenger."

"Quinn!"

"Come on. I'm natural for the front seat passenger. You know. The girl. Wait, I need a pair of sunglasses." She laughed and ran over to her car and got her sunglasses out. "OK," she said. "Now you must have already gotten all the envious glances checking out the car. Now you got the car and the girl. It's be twice as cool, won't it?"

"I wouldn't know. I didn't notice any of that. I was thinking about you seeing it on the way over."

"You shouldn't have been! But come on, before they get their eyes on it."

Sure enough, by now Kathleen was coming out the front door, wondering what Quinn was doing.

"Look," he heard Kathleen crying back into the house, "he's got his car!"

Quinn laughed and told him to pull away.

He drove around the block again. Quinn rolled down the window. A couple of guys in an old car slowed down and whistled in admiration. The driver rolled his window down and yelled, "great car!"

Zander looked over at Quinn. He could see her big smile under the sunglasses.

"You will get tickets in every country in Ohio," she said.

"You can drive. I'll pay your fines."

The whole family was out on the lawn when they pulled back up.

"I thought we might take it," Zander said. "Everyone can drive it."

"He's really big on everybody else driving it," Quinn explained. "I had to hold a gun to his head to get him to drive me around that block just now."

"And you had to keep it on him the whole time!" Pete said. "I'm amazed the battery didn't die. It sat there in the garage. It was the funniest thing. It's a big joke at school. Everybody in the school knows my brother's Porsche is in the garage and how they're going to take it for him."

"How amusing," Zander said. "For that, you will be the last to drive. Quinn, first. Please?" He put on his most entreating look.

"If you drive it up to I-70, I'll drive for awhile after that," she said.

The other seven were piling into the van.

"Wait for us to leave first," Joe advised. "If you do, we will never catch up."


	100. Chapter 100

**Part 100**

Joanna took her children to the park on her day off. There were a few other parents and children there. Her son Ian came up to her, wanting her to tie his shoe. When she looked up, she saw AJ Quartermaine and a small boy on the grass in front of her.

"I run into you again," AJ said. "Is that your son?"

"Yes, this is Ian. That's Michael, isn't it?"

"Yes. They look near the same age."

"Ian is three."

"That's how old Michael is. Don't you have another one?"

"Heather. She's five. She's on the swing." Joanna pointed to the swing set.

"Do you like the swing as much as Michael does, Ian?" AJ asked.

"I'm sure the answer to that is yes," Joanna said with a grin.

Both boys and their parents went over to the swing. The parents pushed their respective sons.

"Carly is working on our costumes for the Nurse's Ball," Joanna volunteered.

"I know. She's really into the sewing. She sends clothes for Michael through her mother Nurse Spencer. So far I've turned them all down."

"But that's nice. It's something she can do for him."

"I don't know," he said. "Sometimes I think I shouldn't let her have any effect on him."

"I thought you were thinking of letting them even see each other," Joanna said.

"I don't know, when it comes to it, if I can," AJ said. "I find doing and talking are two different things. It is much easier to say you will do a thing than to do it."

"Well, whatever you think best," she answered. "Though the clothes sound to me like a good way for her to do something for him."

"You think so?" he asked.

"Yes, I really do."

"I guess it would be all right for now," he said. "He doesn't know where his clothes come from. But if she keeps it up, as he gets older, I'll have to explain it."

"You'll have to anyway."

"You have a point there. I ought to keep it as positive for him as possible. The thing is, I never know where it's going to turn bad."

"You can only do your best," Joanna said.

Quinn leaned back in the seat, and admired all of the car's interior gadgets. "You really are a spoiled rich kid, you know that?"

"I'd rather be working class and Irish."

"Oh no. Then you would not be you. I could not have that."

"At the baseball game, your Mom got Oksana talking about how she met Sergei. It fascinated me. I can't ask them questions like that. It gets into a fight, somehow, or, at least a struggle. But someone in your Mom's position, just asking like a friend, worked. She got something out of Oksana that I never heard before."

"That's good. How did it come up?"

"Somehow we got onto how Danny and Kathleen met, so Kathleen asked Oksana how she and Sergei met. She was a figure skater, he was a coach. I knew that. But not that she was seventeen then. The first thing he did was tell her coach she slid too much in her spins. With talking about Danny and Kathleen, we had been on the subject of love at first sight. Sergei said maybe it was, and Oksana said he was making that up, because, according to her, he only talked to her about skating for a long time."

"They don't even agree on their first year!"

Zander laughed. "Yeah, gee, are we surprised?"

"But since you were eleven, has there been anybody else involved with either of them?"

"No. Not that I know of."

"That is a long time. And you'd know if they had been important."

"Yes."

"I wonder. Do you ever think they would -"

"They wouldn't dare! After all that they've done, if they got back together I would kill them both."

"I wouldn't blame you," Quinn smiled.

"I'll settle for a civil divorce."

"It almost seems like if they could manage that, they could manage to be married," Quinn said. "But you must remember some good time. How far back can you remember? Like when you were eight, did they still get along?"

"I think they did, but they didn't seem to be together that much. We had so little time as a family. If we went anywhere as a family, they got along well. But it was rare."

"I sometimes think you would have been madder at Sergei, because of the way he kidnapped you, but you seemed usually to be madder at Oksana. But now I think I get it."

"What is your theory, shrink?"

"It sounds to me, and correct me if I overstate it, that when they were still married they both traveled a lot, were rarely together, and you rarely saw them. So the divorce may not have made a big difference. With Oksana it was the same, with Sergei you saw him even less. But when he took you to Russia, he spent the time with you. I remember how something about the life there got him to stay in one place, go to your games, and all that. So the only time you have a consistent parent is then."

"I read in the books you and Alexis gave me that in that kind of case, I could be feeling rejected by Oksana. Even though legally she was in the right, and it wasn't her fault, being a kid you don't understand why they don't come and find you. And he - Dad - had the advantage that he was paying more attention to us than he had before. And there was something also about how you see your parent in their original culture, and you like seeing that."

"Yeah. You needed to see that culture. You really come from it, more so than I would come from the Irish, say."

He smiled. "You come from the Irish-American culture."

"Which is around me. But your parents' wasn't all around you, until you got there."

"Even then it was different. The way they grew up is gone."

"Like your ancestors on one side are gone. It is so sad. On the other hand, if you want to see any bright side of it, you get to start over completely."

"I don't know. Maybe not. I don't know much about all that era, you know, when I was there, they were naturally into everything but that. They were looking out at the world for the first time."

"But that right there at least is a reflection of what went before. They were prohibited from looking out."

"And from looking at their own past. They were totally interested in anything before 1917. They loved to change the names of things back. The communists changed names of cities and streets. Sometime we would have a difference with Dad about the name of a street. He would say the old name and we the new. Except actually the name we knew was the older one, and his was the interim newer one. And their signs were never up to date, except in the main parts of downtown. So we would know both names. Everyone referred to the street by the new/old name, but we knew what the sign for that street said, which was something else, being that the sign was still in the communist name!"

Quinn laughed. "How looney," she said.

"Yes! Pete and I thought it was funny. Once Dad wanted to meet us in front of the main gate to the Kremlin on Red Square. In Russian the new name and the communist name sound similar. The communist name was the Spasskaya gate, to us it was the Spasseetiya gate. It was a riot. He kept insisting, we kept insisting, thinking we were talking about different places, until it finally dawned on us."

"Was every name changed?"

"Oh, no, the communists only changed it if it referred to something religious or something imperial. Like the city Oksana comes from, Yekaterinburg, that refers to the Empress Catherine, so in that meanwhile it was named after some communist hero."

"What was the gate you were confused about?"

"I don't know. The new/old name means Savior's gate. That must be religious."

"Yep, it is. Ask you Catholic little brother and he can probably explain it by now."

"OK. Now I'm curious."

Quinn finally agreed to drive when they stopped just east of Cleveland.

She admired everything; the steering, the brakes, the accelerator, the transmission. Zander smiled. "What do you think of the windshield wipers?" he asked, mischievously.

"I don't think it dares rain where this car is, but I'm sure the windshield wipers clear the glass better than normal. Everything is so over the top in this car!"

They were silent for awhile. Zander let her hear the engine hum. He sat back in the passenger seat, feeling the ride. 

Eventually, Quinn said, "I remember something when I read that _Family Breakdown_ book, too."

"You read it? That's sweet of you."

"I think you are affected by it. So I want to know what I can. But I've run across the idea more than once that the child always deep down wants the parents to get back together. Even though he knows it isn't practical, or knows it would not even be good, and even when he is middle-aged. Does that make sense to you?"

"I think so. In my head that is the last thing the world needs. But I do have that part that thinks it would make me happy. I suppose it wouldn't make them happy, though. So they have to do what they have to do, they can't put on a show for me that goes that far. I'm happy for the show I'm getting."

"They were both at the baseball game."

"They sat on either side of me."

"It's a big responsibility for you," Quinn said. "But it's really not your responsibility. To keep them from fighting, that is."

"I can't help it, it is like an automatic thing," he said, sighing.

"They might sit next to each other if they had to," Quinn said. "There it was natural to want to sit next to you, and fortunately, you have two sides."

Zander smiled, and reached over and patted Quinn's head. "One side is reserved for you, so it's a good thing you weren't there. But seriously, they went how far before they came to an area of disagreement? It was about the past, but one feels as if one can go no further. Maybe I don't need to know so much, but I can't help be curious. _Family Breakdown_ and the other stuff got me worried about myself. That if I don't figure out what they did wrong, I'll do the same thing without trying."

"You have time. And they will get more and more civil. Especially after Pete turns 18, what could they have left? And the longer and longer away it gets from their divorce and their big conflicts."

"They both seem to be here more than they were even in Florida, lately, at least. You know what I'm afraid of now? That they'll compete in some business deals."

"Have they done that before?"

"I don't think so."

"Did they work together?"

"I don't think they did that, either."

"Maybe they should try it! If they can get along that way, they can make a foundation to get along at your graduations and weddings and their grandchildren's birthday parties!"

"You know, they must have worked together OK as skater and coach."

"And they worked together to defect to the West."

"I wonder."

"Do you feel comfortable asking either one about that?"

"Dad, maybe. I might not get much of an answer, but I don't think he would get testy with me."

"I feel bad sometimes, for you. Mom and Dad have their memories, and those are the family memories. You have to struggle to even get them to tell you those. We sit around and watch their wedding slides sometimes, or hear stories about the wedding. You have parents who don't want to think about their wedding."

"And it wasn't much of one," Zander said. "Danny and Kathleen's – their parents were there, all their brothers and sisters, their uncles and cousins and aunts and second cousin twice removed."

"And their friends they grew up with," Quinn added. "Yours didn't even get that. You can also see them as really strong people, living with all that. Really brave. They did a lot considering their situation."

"They made a lot of mistakes, too. Heavy ones. Danny and Kathleen didn't take those type of risks, and if you aren't rich, so what? You're rich enough. And the downside never was risked. You were always together."

"I know, but you can't judge them as equal, because they weren't born in the Soviet Union and didn't have to deal with making the choice to defect and living in a kind of nice exile. Who knows what your parents would have done had they been born in America to American families and never had to deal with all that."

"I guess. It is still possible that they didn't have to travel a lot, though. Why not stick with one store – one sporting goods store? That was when she admitted they were happy, too."

"They could have felt insecure. Capitalism, you could lose it all, something like that. Do you ever wonder – what if they had stayed? Raised you and Peter there in the Soviet Union? It would have fallen when you were a little kid and you'd have been in Russia that whole time."

"They might have gotten divorced anyway. Well no, they wouldn't have that insecurity about making it in the capitalist world. There was a lot of insecurity when the Soviet Union fell. Then it was the same for everybody."

"Even if they got divorced, they couldn't have hidden from each other like that."

"Yeah, and they might not have become so competitive with everything. She'd probably have become a skating coach too. Pete and I would have been skaters."

"Well, it sounds like it could have worked out better, except for one thing. I wouldn't have met you. So all the suffering you got, I wouldn't have you miss it. Selfish, but that's the way it is."

Zander smiled. "It was nothing, when you put it like that. I would have them do it all again, exactly as they did it! Exactly, because even if they had gotten along OK as a divorced couple in Florida, then I would still be down in Florida now. Congratulations, Quinn. You finally got me to where I have to thank those two for their every act!"


End file.
